'Why, who the fiend is this?' one cried, glaring at me in
astonishment.
'MORBLEU! It is the man!' another shrieked. 'Seize him!'
In a moment half a dozen hands were laid on my shoulders, but I
only bowed politely.
'The officer, my friends,' I said, 'M. le Capitaine Larolle.
'Where is he?'
'DIABLE! but who are you, first?' the lanthorn-bearer retorted
bluntly. He was a tall, lanky sergeant, with a sinister face.
'Well, I am not M. de Cocheforet,' I replied; 'and that must
satisfy you, my man. For the rest, if you do not fetch Captain
Larolle at once and admit me, you will find the consequences
inconvenient.'
'Ho! ho!' he said with a sneer. 'You can crow, it seems.
Well, come in.'
They made way, and I walked into the hall keeping my hat on. On
the great hearth a fire had been kindled, but it had gone out.
Three or four carbines stood against one wall, and beside them
lay a heap of haversacks and some straw. A shattered stool,
broken in a frolic, and half a dozen empty wine-skins strewed the
floor, and helped to give the place an air of untidiness and
disorder.
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