He felt a thrill of excitement.
Doubtless there would be some bright passages before the night
drew to a close. He would make furious love to the pretty
countess; it would be something in the way of relaxation. How
would they greet him? What would be Madame's future plans in
regard to Fitzgerald? How would she get him out of the way, now
that he had served her purpose? He laughed.
"The future promises much," he said, half aloud. "I am really
glad that I came back."
"Halt!"
Maurice drew up. A sentry stepped out into the road.
"O, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried. With a short laugh he
disappeared.
"Hang me," grumbled Maurice as he went on, "these fellows have
remarkable memories. I can't recollect any of them." He was
mystified.
Shortly he came upon the patrol. The leader ordered him to
dismount, an order be obeyed willingly, for he was longing to
stand again. He shook his legs, while the leader struck a match.
"Why, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried. "Good! We are coming out
to meet you. This is a pleasure indeed."
Maurice gazed keenly into the speaker's face, and to his
surprise beheld the baron whose arm he had broken a fortnight
since.
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