uched the house and
shadowed the moat on the north side. He had meant to go in at some door,
to pass through one of the halls, perhaps, and catch a glimpse of the
dancing. All this now seemed more difficult; he could not go among the
people without being recognised, and though, as far as himself was
concerned, he would have dared anything for a sight of Helene, loyalty
to his uncle stood in the way of foolhardiness.

He walked cautiously towards the steps leading down into the moat. This
corner, far from any entrance, was dark and solitary. The little door in
the moat was probably still blocked; but in any case the ivy was there,
and the chapel window--heaven send it open, or at least unbarred!

"I shall do no harm to-night, Cousin Herve. I shall see her dancing with
some happy fellow. If I don't know Lancilly well enough to spend ten
minutes in the old gallery--nobody will be there--well, then--"

"Monsieur Angelot!" said a deep voice out of the darkness.

"Not an inch nearer, or I fire!" Angelot replied, and his pistol was
ready.

"Tiens! Don't kill me, for I am desperately glad to see you," and Martin
Joubard limped forward. "You got away from those ragamuffins, then? I
thought as much, when I heard they had been watching the woods. But
where are you hiding, and what are you doing here? Take care, there are
a lot of police and gendarmes about. Are you safe?"

"No, I'm not safe--at least my uncle says so. Did you think I would stay
with those rascals long?" Angelot laughed. "I'm going out of the country
to-night. Hold your tongue, Martin. Wait here. I will come back this
way, and you can warn me if there is any one on the track."

"Going out of the country without seeing madame, and she breaking her
heart?" said Martin, disapproving.

"No, I am on my way. Pst! I hear footsteps," and Angelot dropped into
the moat, while the soldier stepped back into the shadow of the trees.

"On his way to La Mariniere--from his uncle's! Rather roundabout,
Monsieur Angelot. Ah, but to have all one's limbs!" sighed Martin,
smiling, for plenty of gossip had reached him; and he listened to the
gay music which made the air dance, and to the voices and laughter, till
he forgot everything else in the thrilling knowledge that somebody was
scrambling up through the ivy on the opposite wall. There was a slight
clank and crash among the thick depth of leaves; then silence.

"He ought to be one of us, that boy!" thought Martin. "I'll wa