I went in again and closed the door
behind me. The landlord was putting on his boots.
'What does this mean?' I said hoarsely--though I had a
clear prescience of what was coming. 'Why are these men
here?'
'Orders,' he answered laconically.
'Whose orders?' I retorted.
'Whose?' he answered bluntly. 'Well, Monsieur, that is
my business. Enough that we mean to see you out of the
country, and out of harm's way.'
'But if I will not go?' I cried.
'Monsieur will go,' he answered coolly. 'There are no
strangers in the village to-day,' he added, with a
significant smile.
'Do you mean to kidnap me?' I replied, in a rage.
But behind the rage was something else--I will not call
it terror, for the brave feel no terror but it was near
akin to it. I had had to do with rough men all my life,
but there was a grimness and truculence in the aspect of
these three that shook me. When I thought of the dark
paths and narrow lanes and cliff sides we must traverse,
whichever road we took, I trembled.
'Kidnap you, Monsieur?' he answered, with an every-day
air. 'That is as you please to call it.
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