158442.fb2 Sharpes Ransom - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 2

Sharpes Ransom - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 2

"That'll be worth a bit, " he agreed. Henri Lorcet petulantly snatched the ruby back. "But this, " he said, "is not worth 40, 000 francs." He put the stone into a pocket, then took from his small case a sheaf of papers, a pen and a bottle of ink. "You will write to this Monsieur Plaquet, " he told Sharpe, pushing the pen and paper across the table, "introducing your good friend Maitre Lorcet and saying that he is taking over the custody of the gold." "Won't work,»

Sharpe said flatly, staring at the Lawyer, "It had better work! " Lorcet snapped. Sharpe shook his head. "I've got a wife, Lorcet, " he said, "a thieving woman in England, and she stole all my money because I wrote my London banker a letter saying she could be trusted. So Monsieur Plaquet and I have an arrangement. He doesn't release any money except to me. Personally."

He tapped his chest. "Me." Lorcet glanced at Lucille who, startled, managed to nod. "It's true, " she whispered, meaning it was true that Jane Sharpe had stolen her husband's money, though whether anything else Sharpe had said was true, she did not know. "I have to go to the bank myself, " Sharpe went on, "with my key. Otherwise? Nothing." "So where is the key?" Lorcet demanded.

Sharpe glanced at a rack of keys hanging beside the kitchen door, Lorcet nodded permission, and Sharpe stood and took down a great black heavy key that looked as old as time, and Lucille at last began to understand that he was playing a game, for the key opened no vault in Caen, but instead unlocked the chateau's chapel. Sharpe tossed the key to the lawyer. "You get me and that key to Caen, Lorcet, " he said, "and you get your money." "How far is it to Caen?" Lorcet asked. "Three hours by cart, " Sharpe said, "and I'll have to take the cart, because 40, 000 francs in gold weigh more than a ton. An hour to load the money, then three and a half hours back? Longer if it snows." "Then pray it does not snow, " Lorcet said, "for if you are not back by nightfall I shall assume you have betrayed us, and I shall let Sergeant Challon deal with your family. I shall regret that, Major." He laid the key on the table.

"Corporal Lebecque will accompany you with two men. If you attempt to summon help, Major, the Corporal will kill you. But do as I ask, and you will all survive the day." He smiled. "Though, admittedly, you will be somewhat poorer." Sharpe picked up the key, then pulled on his greatcoat and hat. "I'll be back here before nightfall, " he promised the lawyer, then stooped to kiss Lucille and his son. She clutched at him. «Richard!» He eased her fingers from his coat collar. "Look after Patrick, love, " he said, then kissed her again.

CORPORAL Lebecque and his men helped Sharpe harness the two horses. One of the two men claimed he could drive, and so Lebecque ordered Sharpe to join him in the back of the cart, where the corporal lifted the skirts of his heavy coat to reveal a pistol. "I should have shot you in Naples, " Lebecque said. "You were with Ducos when I came for the gold?" Sharpe asked. "I don't remember you." "I remember you, " Lebecque said, then he shouted for the gate to be opened and the driver cracked the whip so that the heavy cart jolted forward.

THE first snow began to fall in big, loose flakes that melted as soon as they touched the road. The cart lurched from side to side, for one of the horses was a big plough horse while the other, much smaller had been an offside leader on a French gun team and Sharpe had deliberately harnessed it on the wrong side. The horse would hate being on the nearside, and Sharpe knew it would pull like a pig. "You have to rein in the big horse, " Sharpe told the driver. "I know how to drive, " the man said, and the cart lurched again, almost throwing Lebecque clear across the cart. "Rein it in, " Sharpe said, "and let the little one set the pace." "Shut your face, " the man said, then cracked the whip again and the big horse jerked forward, the small one swerved, and Lebecque and the other guard held on tight as the cart jolted up over the road's central ridge.

«Bastards!» The driver swore at the horses and lashed down with the whip, and the old gun horse shoved at the plough horse and the cart pitched again like a storm-tossed boat. "I" m telling you! " Sharpe shouted, "let the little horse lead! " Lebecque swore as the cart bumped down again into the ruts. «Stop!» he shouted, and the driver obediently hauled on the curb reins «You,» Lebecque pointed at Sharpe, "you drive. And I'll be beside you with this." He lifted his coat to show Sharpe the big pistol again. Sharpe obediently climbed onto the box. Lebecque joined him there, while the two other men settled in the back. Those two men were also armed with pistols, but Sharpe had them where he wanted them, just as he was where he wanted to be. He had escaped the farm, he was ready to fight back. He clicked his tongue, curbed the plough horse's speed, and let the cart climb the steady slope to the village. The snow was fitful and light, whirling in the black branches, but the sky was ominously dark and Sharpe reckoned blizzard was coming. He knew that a heavy fall of snow would never let him reach Caen and back in a day, but nor did he have any intention of going to Caen, for Monsieur Plaquet did not exist, nor was there any great iron-bound chest in a stone vault on the Rue Deauville. There was just a woman and a child to rescue. Shawled women were hurrying along the village street to the Christmas Eve mass in the little church. Sharpe nodded to one or two, then saw Jacques Malan standing in the doorway of the tavern.

The big man, who hated Sharpe because he was English, had just been going into the inn when he saw Sharpe appear, but he waited in the cold long enough to spit into the roadway as Sharpe passed.

"BONJOUR, Monsieur Malan, " Sharpe said cordially, but Malan just ducked into the tavern and slammed the door. Sharpe hauled on the reins, turning the cart down the alley beside the inn. "You don't use the main road?" Lebecque asked suspiciously. "Short cut, " Sharpe said. "Sooner we're done, sooner we're warm again." "My God, it's cold, " Lebecque grumbled. The corporal tugged his coat tighter about his thin body, and Sharpe knew the heavy coat would make it much harder for Lebecque to extricate the pistol. Sharpe was relying on that, but afterwards? God only knew how he would manage the rescue. The alley turned into a narrow lane that passed the butcher's yard and then ran downhill between banks topped with hedges. It turned sharply east at the top of the slope and then came to a steep and wooded stream. Sharpe would normally have jumped off the cart and walked the horses down the hill, but this day he let the cart's weight drive the beasts down the slope so they were going at a fast trot when they reached the bend above the stream. «Careful!» Lebecque snapped.

"I drive here every day, " Sharpe lied, and he cracked the whip hard and hauled on the reins so that the horses leaped around the corner and, just as Sharpe had expected, the cart's offside wheels caught in the deep ruts and the vehicle tipped towards the stream as it was dragged about the bend. He heard the men behind shout as they were thrown across the cart, but he had already abandoned the whip and reins and had seized one of Lebecque's pigtails. He threw himself forward off the box, hauling Lebecque with him as the cart rolled to the right. The frightened horses jerked to a halt as the half overturned cart cracked to a halt against a tree. Lebecque and Sharpe had tumbled onto the splinter bar behind the horses' legs and Sharpe, still holding the corporal's pigtail, thumped his left hand hard down onto Lebecque's throat. The corporal gasped for breath Sharpe hit him on the Adam's apple again, then pulled Lebecque's coat aside to find the pistol, and the corporal, whose every breath was now like swallowing acid, was powerless to resist.

SHARPE kicked him in the head, then jumped over the tangle of traces and reins to find the two remaining men. One had struck his head against the tree as the cart capsized, and he was lying pale-faced on the grass, while the other man had been thrown into a thorn bush, where was fumbling to free his pistol.

"Don't move" Sharpe said, and hauled back the pistol's cock. "No, monsieur!

Please! " the man said. The wheels of the upset cart were still turning. "I do hate dragoons, " Sharpe said, walking up to the man. "Should have killed you all when I had the chance." He dragged the man free of the thorns, then cracked the pistol barrel over his skull to drive him down to the ground. He took that man's pistol and found the third on the unconscious man. "Three dragoons against one rifleman, " Sharpe said, "no wonder we won the bloody war.

Lebecque! Stop croaking like a bloody frog and come here." It took 15 minutes for the unconscious man to revive, and when he came to his senses he found his hands were tied behind his back and a vengeful Englishman was standing over him with a knife. "No, monsieur! " he pleaded. "Shut up, " Sharpe said, and get up." He had found the knife in Lebecque's pocket and had used it to cut the horses' reins into short lengths with which he had tied all three men's hands.

Now he kicked the three onto their feet and back up the hill towards the village. The snow was falling more heavily now, settling on the hedgerows and in the ruts of the road. It was mid-morning, but the clouds had turned the day into dusk. So far, Sharpe thought, so good. He had freed himself and defeated half of Challon's small force, but that had been the easy part for a soldier like Sharpe. Now came the hard part. For now, instead of dealing with enemies, he had to make some friends.

THE goose that should have been Sharpe's Christmas dinner was now roasting in the oven, though the bird would take some hours to cook and Challon was too hungry to wait, and so Lucille was frying eggs and bacon to feed the sergeant and one of his two dragoons who had stayed in the farm. The second dragoon was keeping guard in the gate-tower from where he could see both bridges across the chateau's moat, while Lorcet declared he did not like eggs and was content to breakfast on bread and an apple. Sergeant Challon walked up behind Lucille.

"So why are you married to an Englishman?" he asked. "I'm not married,»

Lucille said, spooning hot fat onto the eggs. "A Frenchman isn't good enough for you, eh?" Lucille shrugged. Lorcet was seated at the table where he was trying to decipher Sharpe's account books. "Leave her alone." he told Challon.

The big man ignored the lawyer. "So what's wrong with a Frenchman?" he demanded of Lucille. "The Englishman came here, " Lucille said, "as simple as that." Challon put his arms around Lucille's waist. She stiffened. "I think you're a traitor to France, " the sergeant said, then slid one hand up to a breast. He smiled, then yelled and leaped away from the stove. «Bitch!» he snarled, clasping the hand where Lucille had spooned steaming fat onto his skin.

HE LET go of the wounded hand so that he could hit Lucille, then went very still as he saw she was poised to throw the whole pan of eggs, bacon and fat into his face. "Sit-down, Sergeant, " Lorcet said tiredly, "and leave her alone. You have more apples, Madame?" "In the larder behind you, " Lucille said, then carried the pan to the table where she tipped eggs and bacon onto one of the plates, but paused before giving any to Challon. "You owe me an apology, Sergeant, " she said. He was about to curse her, then saw that the pan was poised over his groin. "I apologise, Madame, " he said grudgingly. Lucille tipped the rest of the food onto his plate. "Bon appetite, " she said sweetly.

"So why are you with an Englishman?" the lawyer asked. "I told you. He came here one day. He stayed." "You let him stay, " Lorcet corrected her. "True."

"An Englishman has no business in France, " Lorcet said. "His business,»

Lucille said, "is mending the mill, rearing lambs, raising cattle and tending the orchards." "There are Frenchmen who could do that, " Lorcet said, "and who should do that. There's no work, Madame. These men" he indicated the two dragoons who were eating as though they had not seen food in a month, "fought for France. They bled, they burned, they starved, they thirsted, and came home to what? To a fat king on a fat throne and to rich folk in carriages, while they have nothing. Nothing! " "So you let them steal?" "Your Englishman stole our gold, " Lorcet said. "I come merely to restore the gold to its rightful owners." He twisted and peered at the window. "Is it still snowing?" "Harder than ever, " Lucille said. "Then pray your Englishman does not get stuck in a drift, " Lorcet said. "If I were you, Maitre, " Lucille said, "I would pray that he does get stuck." The lawyer frowned at her with incomprehension, and Lucille smiled. "Because if he is stopped by the snow, " she explained, "he won't come back here. And then you might live." "You terrify us, " Sergeant Challon sneered at her. "You sent only three men with him, " Lucille said calmly, then made the sign of the cross, "May their souls rest in peace. But worry not, Sergeant. He will come back." A gust of wind rattled the door and Challon whipped round, his hand going to Sharpe's rifle that he had adopted as his own weapon. Lucille smiled at his alarm, then picked up some sewing. "My rifleman will come back, Sergeant, " she said, "I promise you that. He will come back."

FATHER Defoy finished the Mass with the blessing, then made his few announcements; that tomorrow's Mass would be an hour earlier, that there would be no catechism class, and lastly a very public appeal to Madame Malan to remind her that her son had promised to deliver fuel to the priest's house and the promise had not been kept. The priest worried about Jacques Malan. The big man had returned from the war and now did nothing except take his mother's pension and cause trouble. "You will remind him, Madame?" Father Defoy asked.

"I shall, Father, " Madame Malan answered, then turned in alarm as the church door was thrown hard open. Wind gusted snow into the small church and flickered the candles burning in front of Mary's statue that had been wreathed in holly in honour of Christmas. Three men, two of them with bloodied faces and all with tied hands, were thrust into the church and behind them came Monsieur Sharpe, the Englishman, carrying a huge pistol. "Monsieur Sharpe!»

Father Defoy remonstrated. "This is the house of God! " "Sorry, Father, " Sharpe said, pushing the pistol into a pocket of his coat and snatching off his snow-crusted hat. "I've brought you three sinners who want to make confession, " he said as he kicked Corporal Lebecque up the aisle. "Three miserable sinners, Father, whose souls need shriving before I send them to hell." "Monsieur Sharpe! " The priest protested again. "You left the door open! " "So I did, father, " Sharpe said. He pushed his three prisoners down to the floor in front of the pulpit. "Wait there, you scum, " he said, then he turned back to the priest. "I stopped at the tavern on the way here, Father, he said, "and invited more of your parishioners to come to church."

FATHER Defoy watched as a huddle of sheepish men, their coats white with snow, edged into the back of the church. They had been drinking happily enough, content to let their wives and daughters look after God, when Sharpe had kicked the tavern door open and hauled a bloody-faced Corporal Lebecque into view. "I've just kicked hell out of three dragoons, " Sharpe had announced belligerently, "and if any of you want to know why, then come to the church now." He had dragged his prisoner out of the doorway and the men, astonished and curious, had abandoned their drink to follow. Jacques Malan was the last man into the church. He pulled off his hat and made the sign of the cross, but kept good hold of the cudgel he always carried. He gave the priest a surly nod. "The Englishman wants trouble, father, " he growled. "No I do not, " Sharpe said. Father Defoy, fearing that the church was about to witness some unseemly violence, hurried forward to take charge of the situation, but Sharpe gestured the priest to silence. Then he looked at the villagers. "You don't like me, do you?" He challenged them. "You reckon I'm a stranger, an Englishman who spent most of his life fighting against Frenchmen, and now I'm here and you don't want me, do you?" «No,» Jacques Malan said, and his cronies grinned. "But I want you, " Sharpe said, "because where I come from neighbours help each other, and you're my neighbours now and I need help. So I've got a story to tell. A story about an Emperor, and about gold, and about greed. So settle down and listen." Because he had four hours of daylight left, and a family to rescue.

SHARPE told the villagers the story of the Emperor's gold and how it had been stolen by Pierre Ducos, and how Ducos had arranged matters so that everyone believed Sharpe was the thief, and the villagers, like folk everywhere, liked a good story. Sharpe told how he had come to Lucille's chateau in search of information, and instead had been shot in the leg. "By Madame! " he said indignantly, and most of them laughed. He told them about Ducos, and how he had been called a Major, but was not really a soldier at all. He had been un foncionnaire, he told them, and they sighed for they had all suffered greatly at the insolent hands of officials, and he had been a secret policeman, Sharpe said, and shawled heads shook in the church, and Ducos might even have been a lawyer. Sharpe embellished his story, and some of the women crossed themselves. Then Sharpe told how he had travelled to Naples and cornered Ducos, and how he had taken the gold back, and that made everyone sit up because if there was one subject that was always close to a peasant's heart, it was gold. "But I did not travel to Naples alone, " Sharpe said, and he crossed the church and took hold of Corporal Lebecque. The villagers still did not know why Lebecque and his two companions were Sharpe's prisoners, and they watched wide-eyed as the dragoon was dragged to the front of the aisle. "This man, " Sharpe said, "was one of Ducos's companions. Isn't that true, Lebecque?"

Lebecque nodded. "So you tell them, Corporal, " Sharpe went on, "who came to Naples with me." Lebecque's nose was running and his hands were tied behind his back, so all he could do was sniff. «Soldiers,» he said miserably. "What sort of soldiers?" "French." "And what uniform were they wearing?" Sharpe demanded. Lebecque looked sullen, then shrugged. "The Imperial Guard, " he said. «Louder,» Sharpe demanded. "Head up, man! Back straight! Let's hear you! " Lebecque instinctively stood up straight. "The Imperial Guard! " he snapped, and Sharpe saw that Jacques Malan had heard. He had wanted Jacques Malan to hear, for Malan had been an Imperial Guardsman himself and he still wore one of the great moustaches that Napoleon's picked warriors had sported.

"The Imperial Guard, " Sharpe said, staring at Malan, "and I fought alongside them. I fought under the orders of General Jean Calvet." He saw that name register on Malan's suspicious face. "I was not fighting for Britain, " Sharpe said, "but for France. And when we had taken back the gold, we did not keep it. It went to Elba! " That statement did not go down quite as well as he had hoped, for most of the villagers, far from being impressed by his honesty, plainly thought he was daft for having allowed such a fine treasure to escape.

"But these men, " Sharpe indicated Lebecque and the other two prisoners, "believe I still possess the gold. So they came here. Seven of them. And four are still in the chateau where they are holding Madame, our child and Marie as hostages." A murmur ran through the church. "And I have come here, " Sharpe finished, "because you are my neighbours, and because I need help." He pushed Lebecque back to the other prisoners, then turned to Father Defoy and shrugged as though he had nothing more to say. There was silence in the church for a few seconds, then an urgent muttering. One man demanded to know why they should help Sharpe at all, and Sharpe spread his hands as if to suggest he could think of no reason. "But you all know Madame, " he said, "and Marie has lived here all her life. Would you abandon two of your women to these thieves?" Father Defoy shook his head. "But we're not soldiers! We should call the gendarmes from Caen! " "And at nightfall, " Sharpe said, "Lucille will die while the gendarmes are still looking for their boots." "But what do you want us to do?" another asked plaintively. "He wants us to fight his battles for him, " Jacques Malan growled from the back of the small church. "It's the English way. They let the Germans fight for them, the Spanish, the Portuguese, the Scots, the Irish, anyone but the English."

A MURMUR of agreement sounded from Malan's supporters, then Malan looked momentarily alarmed as Sharpe strode down the aisle. The big man hefted his cudgel. «Outside,» Sharpe said, pulling open the church door. "I don't obey you, " Malan said stubbornly. "Lost your courage, have you?" Sharpe sneered as he walked out into the snow. "All words, no action?"

Malan came through the door like a charging bull, only to find Sharpe sitting on the church's low wall. "Stand up, " Malan demanded. "Just get it over,»

Sharpe said. "Hit me." He saw the puzzlement on Malan's face. "That's what you've been wanting to do all year, isn't it?" he asked. "Hit me? So do it."

"Stand up! " Malan said again, and his supporters, who had followed Malan out of the church, growled their support. "I'm not going to fight you, Jacques,»

Sharpe said, "I don't need to. I've been in as many battles as you have, so I don't have to prove a thing. But you do. You don't like me. In fact you don't seem to like anyone. You do nothing all day except make trouble. You were supposed to deliver firewood to the church-house, weren't you? But you haven't done it. You'd rather sit in the tavern spending your mother's money. Why don't you make yourself useful? I could use you! I've got a rusted-up mill that needs rebuilding, and a mill channel that needs clearing, and next month I've got a load of stone coming from Caen to repave the yard. I could do with a strong man. But right now I need a soldier. A good soldier, not some fat drunk who lives off his poor mother's purse." Malan stepped forward and raised the cudgel. "Get up, " he insisted. "Why bother?" Sharpe asked, "if you're just going to knock me down again?" "You're frightened! " Malan jeered. "Of a drunk?" Sharpe asked scornfully. "You dare call me a drunk?" Malan shouted.

"You? The English? Who were always drunk in battle! " "That's true, " Sharpe admitted, "but we had to be, didn't we? If we were going to fight you lot."

Malan blinked, unsure how to take Sharpe's agreement. "You were drunk?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Not me, Sergeant Malan, not me. But a lot of the lads were. You can't blame them though, can you? They were terrified of the Imperial Guard. Best soldiers in Europe." Jacques, assuming the last four words applied to the Imperial Guard, nodded. "We were, " he said fervently, putting the cudgel on to his shoulder as though it were a musket. "And you know what that makes you and me, Jacques?" Sharpe asked. "What?" Malan asked suspiciously. "The best soldiers in the village." Sharpe stood. "You and me, Jacques Malan, two of the very best there ever were. Real soldiers! Not like those dragoons I dragged up here." Malan shrugged. «Dragoons!» He spat. "Girls on horseback." "So what I'm saying, Jacques Malan, is help me or hit me."

Malan frowned at Sharpe. "Help you?" "How do I get inside the chateau without them seeing me? They're bound to have a sentry in the tower, and there's only two bridges over the moat and that sentry can see both, but there has to be another way in." "How would I know?" Malan said indignantly. "Because you were sweet on Madame when you were young, " Sharpe said, "and one day you got on to the chateau's roof to look through her bedroom window, and you didn't get there by crossing either bridge, did you?" Malan looked embarrassed. "There is a way, " he admitted. "So show me, " Sharpe said, "and after that, if you really have to, you can hit me." "It will be my pleasure, " Malan said. "But first,»

Sharpe said, "we have to organise the choir." "The choir?" "Watch me, " Sharpe said. He clapped the big man on the shoulder. "I knew, from the moment when I was in trouble, that I needed you. Only you." He took one of the captured pistols from his pocket and pushed it into Malan's hand. "You'll find that more useful than a cudgel, Jacques." "I have my musket at home." "Then go and fetch it. Then join me here. And Jacques?" Sharpe paused. "Merci beaucoup." He hid his sigh of relief then went back into the church. He had some singing to arrange.

SERGEANT Challon finished off the last of the goose, patted his belly and leaned back in his chair. Lucille was putting Patrick to bed upstairs and Challon raised his eyes to the ceiling. "She can cook, that one, " the sergeant said appreciatively. "Goose is too much for me, " the lawyer said. "Too rich, too fatty." He had finished with Sharpe's accounts and was wondering why there was no evidence of the stolen gold in the columns. "I could eat another goose, " Challon grunted, then looked at the lawyer. "So what will you do with her when her Englishman gets back?" The lawyer drew a finger across his throat. "It's for the best, " sadly, he said. "I detest violence, but if we let them live they'll only tell the gendarmes. And Major Ducos's will is hardly clear title to the gold, is it? The Government will want it. No, we have to make certain that Major Sharpe and his woman do not talk." "So if the woman's going to die, " Chalon said, "does it matter what happens to her first?" Lorcet frowned. "I find your suggestion distasteful, " Sergeant. Challon laughed. "You can find it what you like, Maitre, but she and I have got some unfinished business." He pushed back his chair. «Madame,» he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling again, "you are about to enter paradise." But before Challon could move there was a sudden rush of feet on the stairs and the man who had been keeping watch from the tower ran into the kitchen. «Sergeant!» "What is it?"

"People! Scores of them! Coming here."

CHALLON swore and hurried after the man towards the tower. Lorcet followed them up the stairs, down the small passage and through the door which led to the circular stairs. Once at the top he could peer through the slits under the tower roof and he saw that a crowd of villagers was walking slowly down the hill towards the chateau. A priest dressed in his full vestments led them through the snow, while behind him a man carried a silver crucifix on a tall pole. Once at the chateau the small crowd split into two, some walking on towards the bridge which led into the gate-tower while the others followed the priest around to the rear of the farm. "Stay here, " Lorcet ordered the man who had been on guard. "Sergeant! Follow me." The two men went back to the kitchen and stared through a window at the priest, who was arranging his followers on the far side of the bridge. "What are they doing?" Lorcet asked. "God knows,»

Challon said. He was still holding Sharpe's rifle, but what was he to do?

Shoot the priest? "Are they going to sing?" the lawyer asked incredulously, for the priest had turned to his flock, raised his hands, and now brought them down. And so the crowd began to sing.

They sang carols in the falling snow. They sang all the beautiful old carols of Christmas, the carols of a baby and a star, of a manger and the shepherds, and of angels' wings beating in the winter snow over Bethlehem. They sang of wise men and of gold, of Mary and her child, and of peace on earth and joy in heaven. They sang lustily, as though the loudness of their voices could stave off the bitter cold of the waning afternoon. "In a moment, " Lucille had come down from the bedrooms, "they will want to come in. I must give them wine, some food." "They can't come in! " Lorcet snapped. "How will you stop them?"

Lucille asked as she folded Patrick's clothes on to the table. "They know we're here. We have lamps shining." "You will tell them to go away, Madame!»

Lorcet insisted. «Me!» Lucille asked, her eyes widening. "I should tell my neighbours that they cannot sing me carols on Christmas Eve? Non, monsieur, I shall not tell them any such thing, " "Then we'll just leave the doors locked,»

Sergeant Challon said, "and they can freeze to death. They'll get tired soon enough. And you, Madame, had better pray that your Englishman is bringing the gold." Lucille went back to the stairs. "I shall pray, Sergeant, " she told Challon, "but not for that." She went up to her child. «Bitch,» Challon said, and followed her. While outside the carollers sang on.