rt heard something," said Agricola. They
listened--but heard only the wind, sounding through the tall trees of
the boulevard.

"Now I think of it, father--when the garden-door is once open, shall we
take Spoil-sport with us?"

"Yes; for if there is a watch-dog, he will settle him. And then he will
give us notice of the approach of those who go the rounds. Besides, he
is so intelligent, so attached to Rose and Blanche, that (who knows?) he
may help to discover the place where they are. Twenty times I have seen
him find them in the woods, by the most extraordinary instinct."

A slow and solemn knell here rose above the noise of the wind: it was
the first stroke of twelve.

That note seemed to echo mournfully through the souls of Agricola and
his father. Mute with emotion, they shuddered, and by a spontaneous
movement, each grasped the hand of the other. In spite of themselves,
their hearts kept time to every stroke of the clock, as each successive
vibration was prolonged through the gloomy silence of the night.

At the last strobe, Dagobert said to his son, in a firm voice: "It is
midnight. Shake hands, and let us forward!"

The moment was decisive and solemn. "Now, father," said Agricola, "we
will act with as much craft and daring as thieves going to pillage a
strong box."

So saying, the smith took from the sack the cord and hook; Dagobert
armed himself with the iron bar, and both advanced cautiously, following
the wall in the direction of the little door, situated not far from the
angle formed by the street and the boulevard. They stopped from time to
time, to listen attentively, trying to distinguish those noises which
were not caused either by the high wind or the rain.

It continued light enough for them to be able to see surrounding
objects, and the smith and the soldier soon gained the little door,
which appeared much decayed, and not very strong.

"Good!" said Agricola to his father. "It will yield at one blow."

The smith was about to apply his shoulder vigorously to the door, when
Spoil-sport growled hoarsely, and made a "point." Dagobert silenced the
dog with a word, and grasping his son's arm, said to him in a whisper:
"Do not stir. The dog has scented some one in the garden."

Agricola and his father remained for some minutes motionless, holding
their breath and listening. The dog, in obedience to his master, no
longer growled, but his uneasiness and agitation were displayed more and
more. Yet t