"Are you taking me to the girls, Harry?"
"No," Harry said. "It would not be safe to do so. There are already suspicions, and they have been denounced."
Marie gave a cry of alarm.
"I have managed to suppress the document, Marie, and we start with them in a day or two. Still it will be better for you not to go near them. I will arrange for you to meet them to-morrow."
"Where am I going, then?"
"You are going to the house of a worthy couple, who have shown themselves faithful and trustworthy by nursing a friend of mine, who has for nearly six months been lying ill there. You will be perfectly safe there till we can arrange matters."
"But if Robespierre has signed my release, as they said, I am safe enough, surely, and can go where I like."
"I think you will be safe from re-arrest here in Paris, Marie, because you could appeal to him; but outside Paris it might be different. However, we can talk about that to-morrow, when you have had a good night's rest."
Harry did not think it necessary to say, that when Lebat was missed it would probably be ascertained that he was last seen leaving La Force with her, and that if inquiries were set on foot about him she might be sought for. However, Marie said no more on the subject, quite content that Harry should make whatever arrangements he thought best, and she now began to ask all sorts of questions about her sisters, and so passed the time until they were close to the Place de Carrousel; then Harry called Jacques to stop.
"Will you please get out, Marie, and wait with our good friend here till I return. I shall be back in five minutes. I have to hand the coach over to its owner."
Jacques threw Lebat's clothes over his arm and got down from the box. Harry took his seat and drove into the Place, where he found the coachman awaiting him.
"Have you managed the job?"
"That we have," Harry said. "He has a lesson, and Isabel has gone off to her friends again. Poor little girl, I hope it will cure her of her flightiness. Here is your cape and your money, my friend, and thank you."
"You are heartily welcome," the driver said, mounting his box. "I wish I could do as well every day; but these are bad times for us, and money is precious scarce, I can tell you."
Harry soon rejoined Jacques and Marie. There were but few words said as they made their way through the streets, for Marie was weakened by her long imprisonment, and shaken by what she had gone through. She had not asked a single question as to what had become of Lebat; but she had no doubt that he was killed. She had grown, however, almost indifferent to death. Day after day she had seen batches of her friends taken out to execution, and the retribution which had fallen upon this wretch gave her scarcely a thought, except a feeling of thankfulness that she was freed from his persecutions. Completely as she trusted Harry, it was with the greatest difficulty that she had brought herself to obey his instructions and to place herself for a moment in the power of her persecutor, and appear to go with him willingly.
When Lebat told her triumphantly that he had saved her from death, and that she was to have formed one of the party in the tumbril on the following morning had he not obtained her release, she had difficulty in keeping back the indignant words, that she would have preferred death a thousand times. When he said that he had come to take her away, she had looked round with a terrified face, as if to claim the protection of the guards; but he had said roughly:
"It is no use your objecting, you have got to go with me; and if you are a wise woman you had better make the best of it. After all I am not very terrible, and you had better marry me than the guillotine."
So, trembling with loathing and disgust, she had followed him, resolved that if Harry's plan to rescue her failed she would kill herself rather than be the wife of this man.
When they reached the house Elise opened the door.
"So you have come, poor lamb!" she said. "Thanks to the good God that all has turned out well. You will be safe here, my child. We are rough people, but we will take care of you as if you were our own."
So saying she led the girl to the little sitting-room which they had prepared for her, for they had that afternoon taken the other two rooms on the floor they occupied, which were fortunately to let, and had fitted them up as a bed-room and sitting-room for her. There was already a communication existing between the two sets of apartments, and they had only to remove some brickwork between the double doors to throw them into one suite. Telling Marie to sit down, Elise hurried off and returned with a basin of bouillon.
"Drink this, my dear, and then go straight to bed; your friend will be here in good time in the morning, and then you can talk over matters with him." She waited to see Marie drink the broth, and then helped her to undress.
"She will be asleep in five minutes," she said when she rejoined her husband and Harry. "She is worn out with excitement, but a night's rest will do wonders for her. Don't come too early in the morning, Monsieur Sandwith; she is sure to sleep late, and I would not disturb her till she wakes of herself."
"I will be here at nine," Harry said, "and will go round before that and tell her sisters. They will be wondering they have seen nothing of me to-day, but I was afraid to tell them until it was all over. The anxiety would have been too great for them."
It was fortunate that Robespierre went out early on the following morning to attend a meeting at the Jacobins, and Harry was therefore saved the necessity for asking leave to absent himself again. At eight o'clock he was at Louise Moulin's.
"What is it, Harry?" Jeanne exclaimed as he entered. "I can see you have news. What is it?"
"I have news," Harry said, "and good news, but you must not excite yourselves."
"Have you found a way for getting Marie out?"
"Yes, I have found a way."
"A sure, certain way, Harry?" Virginie asked. "Not only a chance?"
"A sure, certain way," Harry replied. "You need have no more fear; Marie will certainly be freed."
The two girls stood speechless with delight. It never occurred to them to doubt Harry's words when he spoke so confidently.
"Have you told us all, Harry?" Jeanne asked a minute later, looking earnestly in his face. "Can it be? Is she really out already?"
"Yes," Harry said, "thank God, dears, your sister is free."
With a cry of delight Virginie sprang to him, and throwing her arms round his neck, kissed him in the exuberance of her happiness. Louise threw her apron over her head and burst into tears of thankfulness, while Jeanne put her hand on his shoulder and said:
"Oh, Harry, how can we ever thank you enough for all you have done for us?"
Six months back Jeanne would probably have acted as Virginie did, but those six months had changed her greatly; indeed, ever since she received that note from Marie, which she had never shown even to Virginie, there had been a shade of difference in her manner to Harry, which he had more than once noticed and wondered at.
It was some little time before the girls were sufficiently composed to listen to Harry's story.
"But why did you not bring her here, Harry?" Virginie asked. "Why did you take her somewhere else?"
"For several reasons, Virginie. I have not told you before, but there is no reason why you should not know now, that Victor is still in Paris."
Virginie uttered an exclamation of wonder.
"He stopped here to look after you all, but he has had a very bad illness, and is still terribly weak, and does not even know me. Marie will nurse him. I have great hopes that he will know her, and that she may be able in time to effect a complete cure. In the next place I think it would be dangerous to bring her here, for we must leave in a very few days."
"What, go without her?"
"Yes, I am afraid so, Virginie. I have learned, Louise, that some of your neighbours have their suspicions, and that a letter of denunciation has already been sent, so it will be absolutely necessary to make a move. I have suppressed the first letter, but the writer will probably not let the matter drop, and may write to Danton or Marat next time, so we must go without delay. You cannot change your lodging, for they would certainly trace you; besides, at the present time the regulations about lodgers are so strict that no one would dare receive you until the committee of the district have examined you and are perfectly satisfied. Therefore, I think we must go alone. Marie is wanted here, and I think she will be far safer nursing Victor than she would be with us; besides, now she has been freed by Robespierre's orders, I do not think there is any fear of her arrest even if her identity were discovered. Lastly, it would be safer to travel three than four. Three girls travelling with a young fellow like me would be sure to attract attention. It will be difficult enough in any case, but it would certainly be worse with her with us."
"But we are to see her, Harry?" Jeanne said. "Surely we are not to go away without seeing Marie!"
"Certainly not, Jeanne; I am not so cruel as that. This evening, after dark, we will meet in the gardens of the Tuileries. Louise, will you bring them down and be with them near the main entrance? I will bring Marie there at six o'clock. And now I must be off; I have to break the news to Marie that Victor is in the same house with her and ill. I did not tell her last night. She will be better able to bear it after a good night's sleep."
Marie was up and dressed when Harry arrived, and was sitting by the fire in the little kitchen.
"I have just left your sisters, Marie," Harry said, "and you may imagine their delight at the news I gave them. You are to see them this evening in the gardens of the Tuileries."
"Oh, Harry, how good you are! How much you have done for us!"
Harry laughed lightly.
"Not very much yet; besides, it has been a pleasure as well as a duty. The girls have both been so brave, and Jeanne has the head of a woman."
"She is nearly a woman now, Harry," Marie said gently. "She is some months past sixteen, and though you tell me girls of that age in England are quite children, it is not so here. Why, it is nothing uncommon for a girl to marry at sixteen."
"Well, at anyrate," Harry said, "Jeanne has no time for any thought of marrying just at present. But there is another thing I want to tell you about. I have first a confession to make. I have deceived you."
"Deceived me!" Marie said with a smile. "It can be nothing very dreadful, Harry. Well, what is it?"
"It is more serious than you think, Marie. Now you know that when the trouble began I felt it quite out of the question for me to run away, and leave you all here in Paris unprotected. Such a thing would have been preposterous."
"You think so, Harry, because you have a good heart; but most people would have thought of themselves, and would not have run all sorts of risks for the sake of three girls with no claim upon them."
"Well, Marie, you allow then that a person with a good heart would naturally do as I did."
"Well, supposing I do, Harry, what then?"
"You must still further allow that a person with a good heart, and upon whom you had a great claim, would all the more have remained to protect you."
"What are you driving at, Harry, with your supposition?" she said, her cheek growing a little paler as a suspicion of the truth flashed upon her.
"Well, Marie, you mustn't be agitated, and I hope you will not be angry; but I ask you how, as he has a good heart, and you have claims upon him, could you expect Victor de Gisons to run away like a coward and leave you here?"
Marie had risen to her feet and gazed at him with frightened eyes.
"What, is it about him that you deceived me! Is it true that he did not go away? Has anything happened to him? Oh, Harry, do not say he is dead!"
"He is not dead, Marie, but he has been very, very ill. He was with me at La Force on that terrible night, and saw his father brought out to be murdered. The shock nearly killed him. He has had brain fever, and has been at death's door. At present he is mending, but very, very slowly. He knows no one, not even me, but I trust that your voice and your presence will do wonders for him."
"Where is he, Harry?" Marie said as she stood with clasped hands, and a face from which every vestige of colour had flown. "Take me to him at once."
"He is in the house, Marie; that is why I have brought you here. These good people have nursed and concealed him for five months."
Marie made a movement towards the door.
"Wait, Marie, you cannot go to him till you compose yourself. It is all-important that you should speak to him, when you see him, in your natural voice, and you must prepare yourself for a shock. He is at present a mere wreck, so changed that you will hardly know him."
"You are telling me the truth, Harry? You are not hiding from me that he is dying?"
"No, dear; I believe, on my honour, that he is out of danger now, and that he is progressing. It is his mind more than his body that needs curing. It may be a long and difficult task, Marie, before he is himself again; but I believe that with your care and companionship he will get round in time, but it may be months before that."
"Time is nothing," Marie said. "But what about the girls?"
"They must still be under my charge, Marie. I shall start with them in a day or two and try to make for the sea-shore, and then across to England. Suspicions have been aroused; they have already been denounced, and may be arrested at any time. Therefore it is absolutely necessary that they should fly at once; but I thought that you would consider it your first duty to stay with Victor, seeing that to him your presence is everything, while you could do nothing to assist your sisters, and indeed the fewer of us there are the better."
"Certainly it is my duty," Marie said firmly.
"You will be perfectly safe here under the care of Jacques and his wife. They have already given out to their neighbours that Victor's fiance is coming to help nurse him, and even if by any possibility a suspicion of your real position arises, you have Robespierre's pardon as a protection. This state of things cannot last for ever; a reaction must come; and then if Victor is cured, you will be able to escape together to England."
"Leave me a few minutes by myself, Harry. All this has come so suddenly upon me that I feel bewildered."
"Certainly," Harry said. "It is best that you should think things over a little. No wonder you feel bewildered and shaken with all the trials you have gone through."
Marie went to her room and returned in a quarter of an hour.
"I am ready now," she said, and by the calm and tranquil expression of her face Harry felt that she could be trusted to see Victor.
"I have a feeling," she went on, "that everything will come right in the end. I have been saved almost by a miracle, and I cannot but feel that my life has been spared in order that I might take my place here. As to the girls, it was a shock at first when you told me that fresh danger threatened them, and that I should not be able to share their perils upon their journey; but I could not have aided them, and God has marked out my place here. No, Harry, God has protected me so far, and will aid me still. Now I am ready for whatever may betide."
"One moment before you enter, Marie. You are prepared, I know, to see a great change in Victor, but nevertheless you cannot but be shocked at first. Do not go up to him or attract his attention till you have overcome this and are able to speak to him in your natural voice. I think a great deal depends upon the first impression you make on his brain. Your voice has a good deal changed in the last six months; it would be strange if it had not; but I want you to try and speak to him in the bright cheerful tone he was accustomed to hear."
Marie nodded. "One moment," she said, as she brushed aside the tears which filled her eyes, drew herself up with a little gesture that reminded Harry of old times, and then with a swift step passed through the door into Victor's room. Whatever she felt at the sight of the wasted figure lying listlessly with half-closed eyes on the couch, it only showed itself by a swift expression of pain which passed for a moment across her face and then was gone.
"Victor," she said in her clear ringing voice, "Victor, my well beloved, I am come to you." The effect upon Victor was instantaneous. He opened his eyes with a start, half rose from his couch and held out his arms towards her.
"Marie," he said in a faint voice, "you have come at last. I have wanted you so much."
Then, as Marie advanced to him, and kneeling by his side, clasped him in her arms, Elise and Harry stole quietly from the room. It was nearly an hour before Marie came out. There was a soft glow of happiness on her face, though her cheeks were pale.
"Not yet!" she said, as she swept past them into her own room.
In a few minutes she reappeared.
"Pardon me," she said, holding out her hands to Harry and Elise, "but I had to thank the good God first. Victor is quite sensible now, but oh, so weak! He remembers nothing of the past, but seems to think he is still in Burgundy, and has somehow had an illness. Then he spoke of the duke and my dear father and mother as being still alive, and that he hoped they would let me come to him now. I told him that all should be as he wished as soon as he got stronger, but that he must not think of anything now, and that I would nurse him, and all would be well. He seemed puzzled about my dress"—for Marie had already put on the simple attire which had been prepared for her—"but I told him that it was fit for a sick-room, and he seemed satisfied. He has just dozed off to sleep, and I will go in and sit with him now till he wakes."
"When he does, mademoiselle, I will have some broth and a glass of good burgundy ready for him," Elise said.
"Thank you; but please call me Marie in future. There are no mesdemoiselles in France now, and I shall call you Elise instead of Madame. And Harry, would you mind telling the girls that I will meet them to-morrow instead of this evening. I long to see them, oh so, so much; but I should not like to leave him for a moment now. I fear so that his memory might go again if he were to wake and miss me."
"I was going to propose it myself, Marie," Harry said. "It is all-important to avoid any agitation now. To-morrow, I hope, it will be safer, and the doctor will give him a sleeping-draught, so that he shall not wake while you are away. But, Marie, remember it will be a farewell visit, for I dare not let them stay more than another day. They may be denounced again at any hour, for the man who wrote to Robespierre, if he finds that nothing comes of it, may go to the local committee, and they will not lose an hour, you may be sure."
"I must see them this evening, then," Marie said hurriedly. "The doctor will be here, you say, soon. Victor must have his sleeping-draught this afternoon instead of to-morrow. They must go at once. I should never forgive myself if, by putting off our parting for twenty-four hours, I caused them to fall into the hands of these wretches; so please hurry on all the arrangements so that they may leave the first thing to-morrow morning."
"It will be best," Harry said, "if you will do it, Marie. I own that I am in a fever of apprehension. I will go there at once to tell them that all must be in readiness by to-night. They will be glad indeed to hear that your presence has done such wonders for Victor. They will be able to leave you with a better heart if they feel that your stay here is likely to bring health to him and happiness to both of you."
"A week since," Marie said, "it did not seem to me that I could ever be happy again; but though everything is still very dark, the clouds seem lifting."
The girls were greatly rejoiced when they heard the good news that Victor had recognized Marie, and that Harry had now hopes that he would do well.
"And now we must talk about ourselves," Harry said. "We must not lose another hour. Now, Louise, you must take part in our council. We have everything to settle, and only a few hours to do it in. I should like, if possible, that we should not come back here this evening after you have once left the house. The man who denounced you will expect that something would be done to-day, and when he sees that nothing has come of his letter he may go this evening to the local committee, and they would send men at once to arrest you. No doubt he only wrote to Robespierre first, thinking he would get credit and perhaps a post of some sort for his vigilance in the cause. But if Louise thinks that it cannot possibly be managed, I will write a letter at once to him in Robespierre's name, saying that his letter has been noted and your movements will be closely watched, and thanking him for his zeal in the public service."
"No, I think we are ready," Jeanne said. "Of course we have been talking it over for weeks, and agreed it was better to be in readiness whenever you told us it was time to go. Louise will tell you all about it."
"The disguises are all ready, Monsieur Sandwith; and yesterday when you said that my dear mademoiselle could not go with them, I settled, if you do not see any objection, to go with the dear children."
"I should be very glad," Harry said eagerly, for although he had seen no other way out of it, the difficulties and inconveniences of a journey alone with Jeanne and Virginie had been continually on his mind. The idea of taking the old woman with them had never occurred to him, but now he hailed it as a most welcome solution of the difficulty.
"That will be a thousand times better in every way, for with you with us it would excite far less remark than three young people travelling alone. But I fear, Louise, that the hardships we may have to undergo will be great."
"It matters little," the old woman said. "I nursed their mother, and have for years lived on her bounty; and gladly now will I give what little remains to me of life in the service of her dear children. I know that everything is turned topsy-turvy in our poor country at present, but as long as I have life in my body I will not let my dear mistress's children be, for weeks perhaps, wandering about with only a young gentleman to protect them, and Mademoiselle Jeanne almost a woman too."
"Yes, it is better in every way," Harry said. "I felt that it would be a strange position, but it seemed that it could not be helped; however, your offer gets us out of the embarrassment. So your disguises are ready?"
"Yes, monsieur," Louise said; "I have a boy's suit for Mademoiselle Virginie. She did not like it at first, but I thought that if mademoiselle went with you it would be strange to have three girls journeying under the charge of one young man."
"I think it a very good plan, Louise, but you must get out of the way of calling me monsieur or else it will slip out before people. Now what I propose is, that when we get fairly away we shall buy a horse and cart, for with you with us we can go forward more boldly than if we were alone.
"You will be grandmother, and we shall be travelling from a farm near Etampes to visit your daughter, who is married to a farmer near Nantes. That will be a likely story now, and we can always make a detour to avoid towns. It will be dark when you go out this evening, so you can take three bundles of clothes with you. The only thing is about to-night. The weather is bitterly cold, and it is out of the question that you should stop out all night, and yet we could not ask for a lodging close to Paris.
"Oh, I see now! The best plan will be for you all to sleep to-night at Jacques'. The good people will manage somehow; then we can start early in the morning. Yes, and in that way it will not be necessary for Marie to go out and leave Victor."
"That will certainly be the best way," Louise said. "I have been wondering ever since you said we must start this evening, what would become of us to-night. When we once get fairly away from Paris it will be easier, for the country people are kind-hearted, and I think we shall always be able to get shelter for the night; but just outside Paris it would be different. Then where shall we meet this evening?"
"I will be at the end of the street," Harry said. "It is quite dark by five, so do you start a quarter of an hour later; hide your bundles under your cloaks, for if that fellow is on the look-out he might follow you if he thought you were leaving. Draw your blinds up when you leave, Louise, so that the room will look as usual, and then it may be some time before anyone suspects that you have left; and if I were you I would mention to some of your neighbours this afternoon that you have had a letter from your friends in Burgundy, and are going away soon with your nieces to stay with them for a while. You had better pay your rent for three months in advance, and tell your landlord the same thing; saying that you may go suddenly anytime, as a compere who is in Paris, and is also going back, is going to take charge of you on the journey, and that he may call for you at any time. Thus when he finds that you have left, your absence will be accounted for; not that it makes much difference, for I hope that when you have seen the girls safely to England you will make your home with them there."
"Yes, I shall never come back here," the old woman said, "never, even if I could. Paris is hateful to me now, and I have no reason for ever wanting to come back."
"In that case," Harry said smiling, "we may as well save the three months' rent."
"Oh, how I long to be in England," Virginie exclaimed, "and to see dear Ernest and Jules again! How anxious they must be about us, not having heard of us all this long time! How shall we know where to find them?"
"You forget, Virginie," Jeanne said, "it was arranged they should go to Harry's father when they got to England, and he will know where they are living; there is sure to be no mistake about that, is there, Harry?"
"None at all," Harry said. "You may rely upon it that directly you get to my father you will hear where your brothers are. And now I will go and tell Marie that there is no occasion for Victor to take a sleeping draught."
Marie was delighted when she heard that she was going to have her sisters with her for the whole evening and night, and Elise busied herself with preparations for the accommodation of her guests. Harry then went back to his attic, made his clothes into a bundle, and took up the bag of money from its hiding-place under a board and placed it in his pocket.
He had, since he had been with Robespierre, gradually changed the silver for gold in order to make it more convenient to carry, and it was now of comparatively little weight, although he had drawn but slightly upon it, except for the payment of the bribe promised to the warder. His pistols were also hidden under his blouse.
He went down stairs and waited the return of Robespierre.
"Citizen," he said when he entered, "circumstances have occurred which render it necessary for me to travel down to Nantes to escort a young girl, a boy, and an old woman to that town; they cannot travel alone in such times as these, and they have a claim upon me which I cannot ignore."
"Surely, friend Sandwith," Robespierre said, "the affairs of France are of more importance than private matters like these."
"Assuredly they are, citizen; but I cannot flatter myself that the affairs of France will be in any way injured by my temporary absence. My duty in this matter is clear to me, and I can only regret that my temporary absence may put you to some inconvenience. But I have a double favour to ask you: the one is to spare me for a time; the second, that you will give me papers recommending me, and those travelling with me, to the authorities of the towns through which we shall pass. In these times, when the enemies of the state are travelling throughout France seeking to corrupt the minds of the people, it is necessary to have papers showing that one is a good citizen."
"But I have no authority," Robespierre said. "I am neither a minister nor a ruler."
"You are not a minister, citizen, but you are assuredly a ruler. It is to you men look more than to any other. Danton is too headstrong and violent. You alone combine fearlessness in the cause of France with that wisdom and moderation which are, above all things, necessary in guiding the state through its dangers."
Robespierre's vanity was so inordinate that he accepted the compliment as his due, though he waved his hand with an air of deprecation.
"Therefore, citizen," Harry went on, "a letter from you would be more powerful than an order from another."
"But these persons who travel with you, citizen—how am I to be sure they are not enemies of France?"
"France is not to be shaken," Harry said, smiling, "by the efforts of an old woman of seventy and a young boy and girl; but I can assure you that they are no enemies of France, but simple inoffensive people who have been frightened by the commotion in Paris, and long to return to the country life to which they are accustomed. Come, citizen, you refused the first boon which I asked you, and, methinks, cannot hesitate at granting one who has deserved well of you this slight favour."
"You are right," Robespierre said. "I cannot refuse you, even if the persons who accompany you belong to the class of suspects, of which, mind, I know nothing, though I may have my suspicions. I have not forgotten, you know, that you asked for the life of the daughter of the ci-devant Marquis de St. Caux; and for aught I know these children may be of the same breed. But I will not ask you. Did I know it, not even the obligation I am under to you would you induce me to do what you ask; for although as children they can do no harm, they might do so were they allowed to grow up hating France. All children of suspects are, as you know, ordered to be placed in the state schools, in order that they may there learn to love the people of France and to grow up worthy citizens. Now, how shall I word it?" he said, taking up a pen; and Harry dictated:
"I hereby recommend Citizen Henri Sandwith, age 19, who has been acting as my confidential secretary, to all public authorities, together with Citoyenne Moulin and her two grandchildren, with whom he is travelling."
To this Robespierre signed his name and handed the paper to Harry.
"How long will you be before you return?" he asked.
"I cannot say exactly," Harry replied; "as after I have seen them to their destination I may stop with them for a few weeks."
Robespierre nodded and held out his hand.
"I shall be glad to have you with me again, for I have conceived a strong friendship for you, and think none the worse of you for your showing your gratitude to the family in whom you are interested."
Harry then went into the kitchen, where Robespierre's sister was preparing the next meal, and said good-bye to her.
She had taken a fancy to her brother's young secretary, and expressed a hope that his absence would be but a short one, telling him that Robespierre had said only the day before how much work he had saved him, and that he was determined to push his fortunes to the utmost.
Having thus paved the way for an appeal to Robespierre should he find himself in difficulties on the road, Harry proceeded to Jacques' house and waited there until it was time to go up to meet Louise and the girls.
Victor did not wake until the afternoon. The doctor had called as usual, but had not roused him. He had been told what had taken place, and had held out hope to Marie that Victor's improvement would be permanent, and that he would now make steady progress towards recovery.
At the appointed hour Harry was at his post to meet the party. They came along within a few minutes of the time named, but instead of stopping to greet him they walked straight on, Jeanne saying as she passed him:
"I think we are followed."
Harry at once drew back and allowed them to go fifty yards on before he moved after them. As there were many people about, it was some little time before he could verify Jeanne's suspicions; then he noticed that a man, walking a short distance ahead of him, followed each turning that the others took.
Harry waited until they were in a quiet street, and then quickened his pace until he was close behind the man. Then he drew one of his pistols, and, springing forward, struck him a heavy blow on the head with its butt. He fell forward on his face without a cry; and Harry, satisfied that he had stunned him, ran on and overtook the others, and, turning down the first street they came to, was assured that they were safe from pursuit.
"We had noticed a man lounging against the house opposite all the afternoon," Jeanne said, "and came to the conclusion that he must be watching us; so we looked out for him when we came out, and noticed that as soon as we went on he began to walk that way too. So I told Louise to walk straight on without stopping when we came up to you. I was sure you would manage somehow to get rid of him."
Harry laughed.
"I fancy he will spend to-morrow in bed instead of lounging about. Perhaps it will teach him to mind his own business in future and to leave other people alone. I am very glad that he did follow you; for I felt that I owed him one, and was sorry to leave Paris without paying my debt. Now I think we are pretty well square."
The meeting between the sisters was indeed a happy one. They fell on each other's necks, and for some time scarce a word was spoken; then they stood a little apart and had a long look at each other.
"You are changed, Marie dear," Jeanne said; "you look pale, but you look, too, softer and prettier than you used to."
"All my airs and graces have been rubbed off," Marie said with a slight smile. "I have learned so much, Jeanne, and have been where noble blood has been the reverse of a recommendation. You are changed too—the six months have altered you. Your gouvernante would not call you a wild girl now. You are quite a woman.
"We have suffered too, Marie," Jeanne said as tears came to her eyes at the thought of the changes and losses of the last few months. "We have thought of you night and day; but Louise has been very good to us, and as for Harry, we owe everything to him. He has always been so hopeful and strong, and has cheered us up with promises that he would bring you to us some day."
Marie smiled.
"You are right, Jeanne. I used to laugh a little, you know, at your belief in your hero, and little thought that the time would come when I should trust him as implicitly as you do. You have a right to be proud of him, Jeanne. What thought and devotion and courage he has shown for us! And do you know, he saved Victor too. Jacques has told me all about it—how Victor saw his father brought out to be murdered; and how, half-mad, he was springing out to stand beside him, when Harry as quick as thought knocked him down before he could betray himself; and then Jacques, who was standing by saw it, helped him carry him here. Oh, my dear, how much we owe him!
"And now, Virginie," she said, turning to the youngest, "I must have a good look at you, little one—but no, I mustn't call you little one any longer, for you are already almost as tall as I am. My child, how you have been growing, and you look so well! Louise must have been feeding you up. Ah, Louise, how much we all owe to you too! And I hear you are going to leave your comfortable home and take care of the girls on their journey. It was such a comfort to me when Harry told me!"
"I could not let them go alone, mademoiselle," the old woman said simply; "it was only my duty. Besides, what should I do in Paris with all my children in England?"
"Now, my dears, take your things off," Marie said. "I will just run in and see how Victor is getting on. Harry went straight in to him, and I want to know whether Victor recognized him."
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