In another hour from their arrival they were on the road again, with the knowledge that Tardif had changed horses and gone forward four hours before, boasting as he went that when the bombshell he was carrying should burst, the country would stay awake o' nights for a year.
Madelinette herself had made the inquiries of the landlord, whose easily-bought obsequiousness now knew no bounds, and he gave a letter to Havel to hand to his cousin the landlord at the next change, which, he said, would be sure to secure them the best of accommodation and good horses.
As the night grew to morning, Madelinette drooped a little, and Madame Marie, who had, to her own anger and disgust, slept three hours or more, quietly drew Madelinette towards her.

With a little sob the girl--for what was she but a girl--let her head drop on the old woman's shoulder, and she fell into a troubled sleep, which lasted till, in the flush of sunrise, they drew up at the solitary inn on the outskirts of the village of Beaugard.

They had come fifty miles since the evening before.
Here Madelinette took Havel into her confidence, in so far as to tell him that Tardif had stolen a valuable paper from her, the loss of which might bring most serious consequences.
Whatever Havel had suspected he was the last man in the world to show or tell.

But before leaving the Manor House of Pontiac he had armed himself with pistols, in the grim hope that he might be required to use them.
Havel had been used hard in the world, Madelinette had been kind to him, and he was ready to show his gratitude--and he little recked what form it might take.

When he found that they were following Tardif, and for what purpose, an ugly joy filled his heart, and he determined on revenge--so long delayed--on the scoundrel who had once tried to turn the parish against him by evil means.