red, "and it was soon done."

The yard was dark within, for there might be watchers at any of the
windows above them in the pointed gables that made patterns against the
star-lit sky.

"All is well," said Barlasch; "those sons of dogs have not returned, and
the patron is waiting in the kitchen, cloaked and ready for a journey.
He has collected himself--the patron."

He led the way through his own room, which was dark, save for a shaft
of lamp-light coming from the kitchen. He looked back keenly at Louis
d'Arragon.

"Salut!" he growled, scowling at his boots. "A sailor," he muttered
after a pause. "Good. She has her wits at the top of the basket--that
child."

Desiree was throwing back her hood and looking at her father with a
reassuring smile.

"I have brought Monsieur d'Arragon," she said, "to help us."

For Sebastian has not recognized the new-comer. He now bowed in his
stiff way, and began a formal apology, which D'Arragon cut short with a
quick gesture.

"It is the least I could do," he said, "in the absence of Charles. Have
you money?"

"Yes--a little."

"You will require money and a few clothes. I can get you a passage to
Riga or to Helsingborg to-night. From there you can communicate with
your daughter. Events will follow each other rapidly. One never knows
what a week may bring forth in time of war. It may be safe for you to
return soon. Come, monsieur, we must go."

Sebastian made a gesture with his outspread arms, half of protestation,
half of acquiescence. It was plain that he had no sympathy with these
modern, hurried methods of meeting the emergencies of daily life. A
valise, packed and strapped, lay on the table. D'Arragon weighed it in
his hand, and then lifted it to his shoulder.

"Come, monsieur," he repeated leading the way through Barlasch's room to
the yard. "And you," he added, addressing himself to that soldier, "shut
the door behind us."

With another gesture of protest Sebastian gathered his cloak round him
and followed. D'Arragon had taken Desiree so literally at her word
that he allowed her father no time for hesitation, nor a moment to say
farewell.

She was alone in the kitchen before she had realized that they were
going. In a minute Barlasch returned. She could hear him setting in
order the room which had been hurriedly disorganized in order to open
the door leading to the yard, where her father had concealed himself. He
was muttering to himself as he lifted the furnitur