e, and I wear his glorious
livery. There can, therefore, be no possible objection to my visit."

And the old man chuckled as he neared his destination.

It was not later than eleven o'clock, but the house was still and dark.
There were no lights on the front, and the snow was untrampled on the
stairs and sidewalk. Batoche hesitated a moment, fearing that some
misfortune might have happened to his friends within the four or five
weeks since he had last seen them. But on moving cautiously to the rear,
he saw a bright light in the kitchen and a fainter one in an upper room.

"All is well," thought he, as he ascended the steps and knocked at the
kitchen door. His rap echoed loud within, and he heard the shuffling of
flying female feet. He then tried the lock, but found the door
double-barred.

"I have frightened the maid and the house is barricaded, but I hope the
girl will have sense enough to announce that somebody is at the door."

Presently the muffled stamping of manly slippers became audible and
Batoche recognized the tread of M. Belmont.

"Who is there?"

"A friend."

"Your name?"

Batoche durst not give his name even in a whisper, for the winds of
suspicion might bear it to headquarters.

"What do you want at this hour?"

"Fear nothing. Open the door and I will tell you."

"I will not open."

M. Belmont was not a timid man, but evidently these precautions had
become necessary in the present demoralized condition of the town.

Batoche was in a quandary, but his native sagacity soon came to his aid.
Putting his mouth close to the key-hole, he sent through it the low bark
of the wolf. M. Belmont opened his eyes wide as he heard it, and a
sickly smile spread over his face, but he lost no time in turning the
lock. Through a very small aperture the stranger glided into the room.

"Batoche!"

"M. Belmont!"

A few whispered words explained everything--the disguise, the motive of
the visit and all the rest. M. Belmont recovered his equanimity and led
his friend to a front room.

"I have no time to lose. I must see him," said Batoche.

"He is very ill and now sleeping."

"Who is with him?"

"Pauline. She never leaves him."

"Stay a moment. Roderick Hardinge may be here at any moment. He calls
every evening about this hour. He must not meet you."

"Never fear. It will be easy to keep out of his sight."

The two friends then ascended to the sick room--Pauline's own chamber.
On the little bed lay