kitchen doorway just behind her. Mathilde made
a little movement. She was on the stairs, and she moved nearer to the
balustrade and held to it breathlessly. For Charles Darragon's secret
was De Casimir's too.

"These two gentlemen," said Sebastian slowly, "were in the secret
service of Napoleon. They are hardly likely to return to Dantzig."

"Why not?" asked Mathilde.

"They dare not."

"I think the Emperor will be able to protect his officers," said
Mathilde.

"But not his spies," replied Sebastian coldly.

"Since they wore his uniform, they cannot be blamed for doing their
duty. They are brave enough. They would hardly avoid returning to
Dantzig because--because they have outwitted the Tugendbund."

Mathilde's face was colourless with anger, and her quiet eyes flashed.
She had been surprised into this sudden advocacy, and an advocate who
displays temper is always a dangerous ally. Sebastian glanced at her
sharply. She was usually so self-controlled that her flashing eyes and
quick breath betrayed her.

"What do you know of the Tugendbund?" he asked.

But she would not answer, merely shrugging her shoulders and closing her
thin lips with a snap.

"It is not only in Dantzig," said Sebastian, "that they are unsafe. It
is anywhere where the Tugendbund can reach them."

He turned sharply to Desiree. His wits, cleared by action, told him that
her silence meant that she, at all events, had not been surprised. She
had, therefore, known already the part played by De Casimir and Charles,
in Dantzig, before the war.

"And you," he said, "you have nothing to say for your husband."

"He may have been misled," she said mechanically, in the manner of one
making a prepared speech or meeting a foreseen emergency. It had
been foreseen by Louis d'Arragon. The speech had been, unconsciously,
prepared by him.

"You mean, by Colonel de Casimir," suggested Mathilde, who had recovered
her usual quiet. And Desiree did not deny her meaning. Sebastian looked
from one to the other. It was the irony of Fate that had married one
of his daughters to Charles Darragon, and affianced the other to De
Casimir. His own secret, so well kept, had turned in his hand like a
concealed weapon.

They were all startled by Barlasch, who spoke from the kitchen door,
where he had been standing unobserved or forgotten. He came forward to
the light of the lamp hanging overhead.

"That reminds me..." he said a second time, and having secured thei