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Hazily, Bouchard had heard the talk, while he was looking at Westerling and seeing him, not at the head of the council table, but in the arbor in eager appeal to Marta. "I shall find out! I shall find out!" was drumming in his temples when the council rose; and, without a word or a backward glance, he was the first to leave the room.
Like a man, he may go right into the dungeons, even if you didn't dare to, Miss Galland." "I wish he would!" Marta joined in eagerly. "That might cure you of your silly imaginings, Minna. She actually thinks, Colonel Bouchard, that she hears them groan and moan and even shriek. Didn't you say they shrieked as well as groaned and moaned once about 3 A.M.?" she asked jocularly.
No member of the staff was more frequently present at Marta's teas than Bouchard, who was developing his social instinct late in life by sitting in the background and allowing others to do the talking while he watched and listened.
He had looked forward to a talk with Marta as a kindred spirit, yet it was difficult for him to reconcile the woman speaking now with the woman who had kissed him on the forehead. But he said nothing as he was marched away. "Miss Galland!" exclaimed Bouchard in a way that said he knew her story. "Yes, that little monkey can depend on more justice than he deserves.
Bouchard glanced over his shoulder. Nicot was waving his arms and pointing to his vis-
Her elocution was excellent, as her voice sank to an awed whisper, impressing even Bouchard with a certain uncanniness. Her steps became slow, as with effort, while he was not missing a square inch of the top, bottom, or sides of the tunnel. "But I'll not I'll not this time, when I have a soldier with me.
"I am looking for ghosts," replied Bouchard with saturnine emphasis. "Oh, don't say that!" cried Minna distractedly. "Sometimes at night I hear their chains clanking and their groans and cries for water," she continued, playing the superstitious and stupid maid servant. "That is, I think I do. Miss Galland says I don't." "Does she go into the tunnel?" asked Bouchard.
"As the weather wills." Bouchard bent toward the fire and with the aid of a pair of tongs drew forth the end of a broken spit, white with heat. This he plunged into a tankard of spiced port; and at once there arose a fragrant steam. He dropped the smoking metal to the floor, and drank deeply from the tankard.
"Good day, Colonel Bouchard!" called Marta, appearing in the doorway. "He wants to go into the dungeons to see the ghosts!" Minna exclaimed in a return of horror before Bouchard had time to say a word, while she screwed up the side of her face away from him suggestively to Marta. "Those terrible ghosts! I'm afraid for him.
"A little promenade in the open and my mind made up," said Westerling, clapping Bouchard on the shoulder. "Something about an attack to-night?" asked Bouchard. "You guess right. Call the others." Five minutes later he was seated at the head of the dining-room table with his chiefs around him waiting for their chairman to speak.
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