CHAPTER XXVII
HUNTED
PASCAL was agreeably surprised when the officer to whom he was conducted, a man of some thirty years of age with a frank face, commenced with a quasi apology.
"This is not a very pleasant duty of mine, monsieur, but you'll understand it is a duty. I am here in place of Captain Boutelle, and my instructions are not to allow any one to pass the gate who is not known. But as I know scarcely any one while he knows many, it is rather a hardship for the citizens. Your name, please?"
"Pascal Tourelle." The officer wrote it down, saying the while—
"I am sorry I do not recognize you, M. Tourelle. Your occupation?"
"Merchant—chiefly in steel wares."
"You are not of Morvaix; your accent tells me that."
"I am of Paris; my master's affairs have brought me to this district."
"Ah, Paris!" exclaimed the officer. "I envy you, monsieur. Married?"
"My wife rides with me," said Pascal.
"Her name?"
"Lucette." The officer looked up with a quick smile.
"Pardon the smile," he said, "but the name is unusual and recalls associations for me."
"The devil it does! Can she have been flirting here as well!" was Pascal's thought, but he looked stolidly
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