The captain pondered, and his face fell.
"Do you know how Sir George travels?" said he, in his high, quavering voice, more tremulous than its wont. "There has been such a press of work lately that I am rather short both of men and horses. If he takes anything like a following with him it might come to a coil; and such jobs won't bear patching. They must be done clean or let alone. That's my principle! He's a cock of the game, this, you see," added the captain, apologetically; "and you'll not cut his comb without a thick pair of gloves on, I'll warrant him!"
"Permit me to observe, my friend," replied Malletort, coolly, "that this is a mere matter of detail with which I can have no concern. It is not the least in my line, but exclusively in yours. Must I repeat? You name your own price, and work in your own way."
"It cannot be done without cutting his throat," said Bold, despondingly, regretting the while, not so much a necessity for bloodshed, as his own sorry chance of carrying out the adventure with a whole skin.
"Of course not," assented the Abbé. "Why, he was in the Grey Musketeers of the King!"
"To-night, you say," continued the captain, in the same mournful tone. "I wonder if he rides that bay with the white heels. I've seen him turn the horse on a sixpence, and he's twice as heavy as my mare."
Again Malletort laughed his low, mocking laugh.
"Fear not," said he; "there need be no personal collision on foot or on horseback. Sir George travels by the heavy post-coach, like any fat grazier or cattle-dealer, whom you may bid 'Stand and deliver' without a qualm."
"By the coach!" repeated Bold, his face brightening. "That's a different job altogether. That makes the thing much more like business, especially if there's many passengers. You see, they frighten and hamper one another. Why, if there's a stoutish old woman or two anyways near him, it's as likely as not they'll pinion Sir George by both arms, and hold on till we've finished, screaming awful, of course! But you won't make any difference in the price on account of the coach, now, will you? Even chancing
