But the way was won, and before the men could reach their comrades to tell their news the four were safely out and speeding away through the moonlight toward the city. The distance was short, fortunately; but short as it was, Dubois, knowing that pursuit would soon be hot on their heels, cast many an anxious look behind him at the Castle. “Would to Heaven we could have met with Pascal,” he muttered. “He has gone to Malincourt,” said Gerard. “Should we not follow him? The pursuit will spread out like a fan and every inch of the ground will be scoured.” “We could not reach Malincourt, I fear,” was Gerard’s verdict, and then Gabrielle was ready with a suggestion. “I can find shelter and help in a hundred houses while we make our plans. In the city I am sure of my people.” “Our plans should not take long to form,” answered Gerard. “To leave the city by the gates is impossible, of course, and we need but a guide who will lead us to some spot by which we can get out. Once outside we can trust to ourselves to find the road to Cambrai.” “To Cambrai?” asked Gabrielle. “Why to Cambrai?” “Because at Cambrai lies a Bourbon force strong enough to break the Governor’s power.” “Would we were safely housed in Malincourt to await him,” said Dubois. “Better were we safely out of Morvaix altogether,” replied Gerard. Under Gabrielle’s guidance they hurried through the streets, in which the citizens were beginning to assemble, attracted by the Castle guns. Groups of townsfolk stood at the corners and in the roadways discussing the meaning of the unusual disturbance in more or less eager tones and with many a sign of fear lest it boded ill to the city and themselves. Now and again a soldier or two, who had been loitering late in their revels in the city, would dash past them scurrying Castlewards. Everywhere excitement and uneasiness prevailed. Many curious glances were cast after the four as they hurried on their way, and once or twice, when Pierre chanced to be recognized, a question would be flung after him as to the meaning of the trouble at the Castle. But no one sought to stay them, and a good distance had been safely put between them and the Castle when Gabrielle stopped before a long, low-gabled house in a dark by-street. “I can get the guide we need here,” she said. She knocked at the door and entered, to return in a couple of minutes. “There is bad news, I fear,” she said. “You remember the man who was slain in the market place, Babillon the smith. This is the house of his brother; he is entirely to be trusted. He knows every inch of the city walls and is often passing in and out by secret ways when the gates are shut. He says that something has occurred which has put the guard on the alert, and that to-night it is scarcely possible to pass.” “Let me question him,” said Gerard, and they went in together. “Greeting, good friar,” said Babillon, a strong, lithe, hard-faced, keen-eyed man, saluting Gerard respectfully.