, slipped into the great Rue St. Jacques by the
little port St. Benoit, which the students and even the professors found
so necessary, whenever their errands were of such a private nature as to
disqualify them from crossing the square of the Sorbonne, with its rows
on rows of enfilading windows.

It was up the narrow stair of the Abbe John's lodgings that they found a
temporary shelter while the final arrangements were being made. Horses
and a serving-man (provided for in the passports) were the most pressing
of these.

It was in connection with the serving-man that Claire Agnew first found
a tongue.

"I know a lad," she said, "a Scot, seemingly stupid, but cunning as a
fox, who may be of service to us. His apparent simplicity will be a
protection. For it will be evident that none bent on escaping would
burden themselves with such a 'Cabbage Jock.' He is of my father's
country and they were ofttimes in close places together. His name
is----"

"No matter for his name--we will call him Cabbage Jock," cried the Abbe
John. "Where is this marvel to be found?"

"Not far away, as I judge," said the girl, taking a silver whistle, such
as ladies wore at that time to call their waiting-maids, from about her
neck. She blew lightly upon it, first two long and then two short notes.
And from the street corner, prompt as if he had been watching (which,
indeed, he had been), came running the strangest object ever seen in a
civilised land. He gave one glance at the window at which Claire's head
appeared. Then, diving under the low door like a rat making for a hole,
he easily evaded the shouting concierge, and in a moment more stood
before them.

CHAPTER V.

THE SPROUTING OF CABBAGE JOCK

Cabbage Jock was immensely broad at the shoulders. He stooped slightly,
so that his long arms fell below his knees when he stood erect. His
mouth was slightly open, but so large in itself that a banana could
easily have been inserted sideways without touching the wicks. There was
a look of droll simplicity on the lad's face (he was apparently about
twenty) which reminded one of the pictures of Lob-Lie-by-the-Fire, or
the Brownie of Scottish fireside tales.

Yet for one so simple he had answered with strange readiness. There was
a quick flash of the eye as he took in the two men before him.

"What may you be?" demanded the Professor of Eloquence.

"A he-goat upon the mountains, comely in the going!" said the lout, in
very good Fren