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Updated: June 6, 2025
Amelie saw at a glance the whole interior of the cell, and the persons in it. Valensolle was standing, leaning against the wall, and still holding the book from which he had just read the lines that Amelie had overheard. Jayat was seated near a table with his head resting on his hands. Ribier was sitting on the table itself.
Roland had just thrown his three-cornered hat on a chair and Morgan had recognized him. "Roland de Montrevel!" he exclaimed, "Roland in a sergeant's uniform! This time we are on his track while he is still seeking ours. It behooves us not to lose it." "What are you going to do?" asked Valensolle, observing that his friend was preparing to leave him. "Inform our companions.
Montbar passed through the villages of Varennes, La Creche, and Chapelle-de-Guinchay, and did not stop until he reached the Maison-Blanche. The spot was exactly as Valensolle had described it, and was admirably adapted for an ambuscade. The Maison-Blanche stood in a tiny valley between a sharp declivity and a rise in the ground.
Morgan did not answer; he helped his companion to climb out of the vault, and then let the stone drop back in its place. Valensolle looked about him. He was in the midst of a vast building filled with hay, into which the light filtered through windows of such exquisite form that they certainly could not be those of a barn. "Why!" said Valensolle, "we are not in a barn!"
He had left it to follow M. de Valensolle. The same footsteps that had approached the hut were to be seen going, as they left it, in the direction of Ceyzeriat. The traveller had really taken the road to Geneva. Jacques' footsteps showed it plainly. The stride was long, like that of a man running, and he had followed the road behind the trees, evidently to conceal himself from the rider.
"Climb up the hay and sit down near that window," replied Morgan. Valensolle obeyed and scrambled up the hay like a schoolboy in his holidays; then he sat down, as Morgan had told him, before a window. The next moment Morgan placed between his friend's legs a napkin containing a pate, bread, a bottle of wine, two glasses, two knives and two forks.
They stood relatively back from the rest of the building, and directly opposite to the one where the young men were supping. These windows were on the first floor, but in the position the watchers occupied at the top of bales of hay, Morgan and Valensolle were not only on a level, but could even look down into them. These windows were those of the room of the captain of gendarmes.
During this time M. de Valensolle picked up the pistol which had escaped from his friend's hand, and brought it, together with the box, to Sir John. "Well?" asked the Englishman, motioning toward Alfred de Barjols with his eyes. "He is dead," replied the second.
Michel, pretending that he must be off to see to his game, also rose. His toilet was not long in making; he had only to shake the straw from his hair, game-bag, and blouse, after which he took leave of his friend Pierre and hid himself at the corner of the street. Fifteen minutes later the gate opened and a man rode out on a pacing horse. It was M. de Valensolle.
"Raoul-Frederic-Auguste de Valensolle, born at Sainte-Colombe, department of the Rhone, aged twenty-seven." "Pierre-Hector de Ribier, born at Bollene, department of Vaucluse, aged twenty-six." Questioned as to their social condition and state, all four said they were of noble rank and royalists.
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