They will
trace us to Orleans, and you may be sure that there will be a hot
hue and cry, and it may be that the fact of a horse and cart having
been sold would come out. They will not know whether we have made
east, west, or south from there, so there will be a far less active
search at Tours than there will at Orleans."
So the journey was carried out, and without any serious adventure;
although with a great many slight alarms, and some narrow escapes
of detection, which cannot be here detailed. The party arrived at
the spot where the lane leading to the little farm occupied by
Margot's mother left the main road. Here they parted, the girls
taking their bundles, and starting to trudge the last few miles on
foot.
Margot discreetly went on a little ahead, to give her mistress the
opportunity of speaking to Rupert alone, but she need not have done
so, for all that Rupert said was:
"I have been in the light of your brother this time, Adele, as your
father gave you into my charge. If I ever come again, dear, it will
be different."
"You are very good, Rupert. Goodbye;" and with a wave of the hand
she ran after Margot; while Rupert, mounting the cart, drove on
into Poitiers.
Here he sold his load of hay to a stable keeper, drove a mile or
two out of the town, entered a wood, and then took the horse out of
the cart, and leaving the latter in a spot where, according to all
appearances, it was not likely to be seen for months, drove the
horse still further into the wood, and, placing a pistol to its
head, shot it dead.
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