ther he came to
satisfy himself that I was in my room and all well in the house before
he sought his own mat.

When I went softly to my bedroom he was still sniffing at the study
door.

I must have slept a couple of hours only when my door handle was
quietly turned, and, being a light sleeper, I became aware of a
presence in the room before a touch was laid upon my shoulder. It was
Madame de Clericy.

"Where is my husband?" she asked, and added: "I thought he was sitting
up with you."

"No; I have been alone all the evening," answered I, with a quick
feeling of uneasiness.

"I do not think that he is in the house at all," said Madame, moving
towards the door. "Will you get up and dress? You will find me in the
morning-room."

Lighting my candle, this woman of few words left me. The dawn was
creeping up over the opposite roof and through the open window; the
freshness of the March air made me shiver as I hurried into my
clothes. In the morning-room I found Madame de Clericy.

"Mother," Lucille had once said to me, "always rises to the occasion,
but the process is not visible."

"Come quietly," said Madame, speaking, as indeed was her habit in
regard to myself, with a certain kindness and sympathy--"come quietly;
for Lucille is asleep. I have been to see."

She took it for granted that she and I should consider Lucille before
all else, and the assumption gave me pleasure. Although she said
"Come," she stood aside and allowed me to lead the way. We naturally
went first to the study. The door was locked. At the entrance from my
own room we were again met by bars.

"Can you break it open?" asked Madame.

"Not without noise. Let us make sure that he is not elsewhere in the
house first."

Together we went up and down the old dwelling, and I traversed many
corridors and chambers for the first time. We found nothing. It was
beginning to get light when we returned to my study.

"Shall I break open the door?" I asked, when I had unbarred the
shutters.

"Yes," answered Madame.

The door was a solid one of walnut, and not to be broken open by mere
pressure. While I was moving some of the chairs in order to give
myself a run, Lucille came into the room. She had hurried on a
dressing-gown and her hair was all down her back, but she was much too
simple-minded to think that such things mattered at such a moment.

"What is it?" she cried. "What _are_ you doing?"

Madame explained, and the two stood hand in hand w