perhaps an impertinent thing to do, but
she was almost sure that Mademoiselle Vire would do as she asked. As
soon as she saw him so far on his way, she ran to the inn, and went
through to the kitchen, where a maid was cooking.

"Bring your master to me, as quickly as possible," the girl said
peremptorily. "You need not be afraid" she added, seeing that the
woman--not unnaturally--looked upon her with suspicion. "I will touch
nothing, and the quicker you come back the better I shall be pleased."

The maid eyed her doubtfully for a few minutes, then shrugged her
shoulders and ran out of the room. Her master would, at least, be able
to get rid of this obnoxious stranger, she thought. He came quickly
enough, with an anxious expression on his rosy face, and Barbara had to
tell the story twice or thrice before he seemed to understand. It was
rather unpleasant work telling a foreigner about the evil deeds of a
fellow-countryman, but it seemed the right thing to do, though the
thought of it haunted the girl for some time.

When once the landlord understood matters, he acted very promptly,
sending some one for the police, and then with a telegram to Neuilly. He
said he had had his doubts all along, because the gentleman had seemed
queer, and the people sleeping next him had complained that they were
sure he beat his son, for they used to hear the boy crying.

The landlord then went down into the hall to wait until Mademoiselle
Therese's interview was over, and Barbara, leaving a message to the
effect that she had grown tired and had gone on, ran back to their house.

Having succeeded in entering unobserved, she got her purse and hurried
off to Mademoiselle Vire.

The old maid looked at her with a mingling of relief and curiosity, but
was much too polite to ask any questions.

"The young man is here," she said, and led the way into the little
dining-room, where her mistress was sitting opposite the boy with a very
puzzled face, but doing her best to make him take some wine and biscuit.
Mademoiselle Vire had always appeared to Barbara as the most courteous
woman she had ever met, and, in presence of the frightened, awkward
youth, her gracious air impressed the girl more than ever.

Knowing that he could not understand French she told his story at once,
and her listener never showed by a glance in his direction that he was
the subject of conversation. They both came to the conclusion that the
best thing he could do