"Very well," said Leon, "then we shall go to the Commissary."
Thither they went; the office was closed and dark; but the house
was close by, and Leon was soon swinging the bell like a madman.
The Commissary's wife appeared at a window. She was a thread-paper
creature, and informed them that the Commissary had not yet come
home.
"Is he at the Maire's?" demanded Leon.
She thought that was not unlikely.
"Where is the Maire's house?" he asked.
And she gave him some rather vague information on that point.
"Stay you here, Elvira," said Leon, "lest I should miss him by the
way. If, when I return, I find you here no longer, I shall follow
at once to the Black Head."
And he set out to find the Maire's. It took him some ten minutes
wandering among blind lanes, and when he arrived it was already
half-an-hour past midnight. A long white garden wall overhung by
some thick chestnuts, a door with a letter-box, and an iron bell-
pull, that was all that could be seen of the Maire's domicile.
Leon took the bell-pull in both hands, and danced furiously upon
the side-walk. The bell itself was just upon the other side of the
wall, it responded to his activity, and scattered an alarming
clangour far and wide into the night.
A window was thrown open in a house across the street, and a voice
inquired the cause of this untimely uproar.
"I wish the Maire," said Leon.
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