He replaced the garments, and then to make doubly sure, he waited yet - in a fever of impatience - another half-hour by his watch.
It wanted a few minutes to midnight when, taking up his cloak and a lantern he had lighted, he went below once more. In the common-room he found precisely the scene he had expected. Both Charlot's men and his own followers lay about the floor in all conceivable manner of attitudes, their senses locked deep in the drunken stupor that possessed them. Two or three had remained seated, and had fallen across the table, when overcome. Of these was Mother Capoulade, whose head lay sideways on her curled arms, and from whose throat there issued a resonant and melodious snore.
Most of the faces that La Boulaye could see were horribly livid and bedewed with sweat, and again it came into his mind to wonder whether he had overdone things, and they would wake no more. On the other hand, an even greater fear beset him, that the drug might have been insufficient. By way of testing it, he caught one fellow who lay across his path a violent kick in the side. The man grunted in his sleep, and stirred slightly, to relapse almost at once into his helpless attitude, and to resume his regular breathing, which the blow had interrupted.
La Boulaye smiled his satisfaction, and without further hesitancy passed out into the yard. He had yet a good deal to say to Mademoiselle, but he could not bring himself to speak to her before her mother, particularly as he realised how much the Marquise might be opposed to him. He opened the carriage door.
"Mademoiselle," he called softly, "will you do me the favour to alight for an instant? I must speak to you."
"Can you not say what you have to say where you are?" came the Marquise's voice.
"No, Madame," answered La Boulaye coldly, "I cannot."
"Oh, it is 'Madame' and 'Mademoiselle' now, eh? What have you done to the man, child, to have earned us so much deference."
"May I remind Mademoiselle," put in La Boulaye firmly, "that time presses, and that there is much to be done?"
"I am here, Monsieur" she answered, as without more ado, and heedless of her mother's fresh remarks, she stepped from the carriage.
La Boulaye proffered his wrist to assist her to alight, then reclosed the door, and led her slowly towards the stable.
"Where are the soldiers?" she whispered.
"Every soul in the inn is asleep," he answered. "I have drugged them all, from the Captain down to the hostess. The only one left is the ostler, who is sleeping in one of the outhouses here. Him you must take with you, not only because it is not possible to drug him as well, but also because the blame of your escape must rest on someone, and it may as well rest on him as another."
"But why not on you?"she asked.
"Because I must remain."
"Ah!" It was no more than a breath of interrogation, and her face was turned towards him as she awaited an explanation.
"I have given it much thought, Suzanne, and unless someone remains to cover, as it were, your retreat, I am afraid that your flight might be vain, and that you would run an overwhelming risk of recapture. You must remember the resourcefulness of this fellow, Tardivet, and his power in the country here. If he were to awake to the discovery that I had duped him, he would be up and after us, and I make little doubt that it would not be long ere he found the scent and ran us to earth. Tomorrow I shall discover your flight and the villainy of the ostler, and I shall so organise the pursuit that you shall not be overtaken."
There was a moment's pause, during which La Boulaye seemed to expect some question. But none came, so he proceeded:
