“Technically, I suppose you are right,” sighed Andre-Louis, and fell to combing his hair again, still looking up into the sergeant’s face.  “But we have sinned in ignorance.  We are grateful to you for the warning.”  He passed the comb into his left hand, and with his right fumbled in his breeches’ pocket, whence there came a faint jingle of coins.  “We are desolated to have brought you out of your way.  Perhaps for their trouble your men would honour us by stopping at the next inn to drink the health of... of this M. de La Tour d’ Azyr, or any other health that they think proper.”

Some of the clouds lifted from the sergeant’s brow.  But not yet all.

“Well, well,” said he, gruffly.  “But you must decamp, you understand.”  He leaned from the saddle to bring his recipient hand to a convenient distance.  Andre-Louis placed in it a three-livre piece.

“In half an hour,” said Andre-Louis.

“Why in half an hour?  Why not at once?”

“Oh, but time to break our fast.”

They looked at each other.  The sergeant next considered the broad piece of silver in his palm.  Then at last his features relaxed from their sternness.

“After all,” said he, “it is none of our business to play the tipstaves for M. de La Tour d’Azyr.  We are of the marechaussee from Rennes.”  Andre-Louis’ eyelids played him false by flickering.  “But if you linger, look out for the gardes-champetres of the Marquis.  You’ll find them not at all accommodating.  Well, well — a good appetite to you, monsieur,” said he, in valediction.

“A pleasant ride, my captain,” answered Andre-Louis.

The sergeant wheeled his horse about, his troop wheeled with him.  They were starting off, when he reined up again.

“You, monsieur!” he called over his shoulder.  In a bound Andre-Louis was beside his stirrup.  “We are in quest of a scoundrel named Andre-Louis Moreau, from Gavrillac, a fugitive from justice wanted for the gallows on a matter of sedition.  You’ve seen nothing, I suppose, of a man whose movements seemed to you suspicious?”

“Indeed, we have,” said Andre-Louis, very boldly, his face eager with consciousness of the ability to oblige.

“You have?” cried the sergeant, in a ringing voice.  “Where?  When?”

“Yesterday evening in the neighbourhood of Guignen... "

“Yes, yes,” the sergeant felt himself hot upon the trail.

“There was a fellow who seemed very fearful of being recognized ... a man of fifty or thereabouts... "

“Fifty!” cried the sergeant, and his face fell.  “Bah!  This man of ours is no older than yourself, a thin wisp of a fellow of about your own height and of black hair, just like your own, by the description.  Keep a lookout on your travels, master player.  The King’s Lieutenant in Rennes has sent us word this morning that he will pay ten louis to any one giving information that will lead to this scoundrel’s arrest.  So there’s ten louis to be earned by keeping your eyes open, and sending word to the nearest justices.  It would be a fine windfall for you, that.”