His name is
Poignot; and he was formerly in Monsieur Lacheneur's employ. With the
assistance of his three sons, he now tills quite a large farm. We must
procure a litter and carry Monsieur d'Escorval to the house of this
honest peasant."
"What, Monsieur," interrupted one of the officers, "you wish us to
procure a litter at this hour of the night, and in this neighborhood?"
"It must be done."
"But, will it not awaken suspicion?"
"Most assuredly."
"The Montaignac police will follow us."
"I am certain of it."
"The baron will be recaptured!"
"No."
The abbe spoke in the tone of a man who, by virtue of assuming all the
responsibility, feels that he has a right to be obeyed.
"When the baron has been conveyed to Poignot's house," he continued,
"one of you gentlemen will take the wounded man's place upon the litter;
the others will carry him, and the party will remain together until it
has reached Piedmontese territory. Then you will separate and pretend
to conceal yourselves, but do it in such a way that you are seen
everywhere.
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