He came to meet her with blackened face and hands. "Thank God, our home is saved," he said; "I am leaving the men to watch it, and I will wire for the police in the morning. Come along in. How about a cup of coffee? We'll get Pierre to make us one." They approached the Château together. Suddenly from the thick shrubbery at their side a man darted out and levelled his pistol straight at Guy's heart. In a second Adrienne had flung herself in front of him. She had recognized Dragominsk. He looked dishevelled and wild, but his pistol went off, and Adrienne swayed and fell at her husband's feet. In agony of mind, Guy lifted her up, and bore her into the house. Dragominsk made off, but all Guy's thoughts were on his unconscious wife. One of the men rode off for the doctor. The wound was in her shoulder and it was bleeding profusely. With firm, deft hands Guy bandaged it up and stopped the flow of blood. It seemed years to him before the doctor arrived. After a brief examination, he allayed his worst fears. "The bullet has escaped the lung. I must get it out. But it isn't in a vital part. We will have her well again. Cheer up!" In an hour's time the bullet had been extracted, and Adrienne's wound dressed. She had recovered consciousness, but was at first too dazed and confused to remember things. Then, as the morning wore on, she began to ask questions. Guy would not leave her side. He felt as if nothing in the world mattered now but his wife. By and by urgent messages reached him, and he was forced to leave her. When he returned, there was a sad look in his eyes; but fearing to agitate Adrienne, he kept his own counsel, and did not enlighten her as to the cause of his distress. She had fever for a few days, and had to be kept very quiet. It was a revelation to her to see what a good nurse her husband was. Quiet, tender and deft in every movement, he waited upon her hand and foot, and would hardly allow her maid or Alain's bonne to come near her. And then one bright May morning, when Adrienne was really convalescent, he broke to her the sad news: "Our dear little Agatha has been taken from us." Adrienne burst into tears. "Oh, how dreadful for us! But lovely for her. Tell me all about it, Guy. What has happened? What shall we do without her?" "She saved our lives at the cost of her own. Who do you think sounded the alarm bell?" "Not Agatha!" "Yes, Agatha; the village consider it a miracle, her sister an amazing and astounding feat. She was found, poor little thing, dead at the foot of the belfry stairs. Her delicate little hands were marked, almost lacerated by the rope." "How could Marie let her! How could she! Oh, I can't believe it! She was paralysed from her waist downwards." "Marie had been called out to a case of sudden illness. Wouldn't you like her to come up to you and tell you more than I can?"