Upstairs Dan's attention had been attracted by the commotion in front of the inn. He opened a window on to the roof of the gallery, climbed out, and crawled along on his belly till his head just abutted over the eaves. For a few moments, after the firing, he could hear the attackers moving about behind the fence across the courtyard. At length, a couple of them stole across the court and up on to the gallery beneath him. In a moment they returned carrying the dead or wounded comrade; then all of them seemed to go off together up the dark avenue of maples. He waited till they could be heard no more, then crept back into the house and ran down to tell Dan of their temporary withdrawal. For an hour or more the four defenders of the Inn kept themselves occupied parading the corridors and rooms, on the watch for a fresh attack. But nothing happened. They felt no security, however, and would feel none till daylight.
In the silent watching of that night Dan had ample opportunity to reflect upon his extraordinary interview with Madame de la Fontaine. He loved her. Good heavens how he loved her, but--had she been sincere in her refusal at the last to keep the scrap of paper for the possession of which she had so desperately intrigued? Had she decoyed him to the rendezvous in the dark but to betray him to the bandits with whom she was in league? At first it would seem so. And yet the paper was in his possession; and, she it was who had rescued him from the assassin's knife. Where was she now? What had become of her? What was to be the end of this mad night's work? That she was the woman who had accompanied General Pointelle--or the Maréchal de Boisdhyver--somehow did not surprise him. And for the time the full import of what that implied did not dawn upon him. But what mattered anything now that he loved her?
He determined at last to reconnoitre again from the roof of the gallery. It still lay in shadow, but it would not be long before the moon, now rising over the eastern hills beyond the Strathsey flooded it with light. In a moment, he had opened the window, was over the sill, and, creeping cautiously along the roof to the ledge, he worked his way toward the great oak at the farther end.