“The dust of the Innocents, citizen.” (Gusman’s voice.) “It is with the dust of the depraved in breeding fat maggots, is it not?” “Ay, so long as they can find flesh food.” “But what if such food were concealed herein? That little _babouin_ of St Pélagie--_peste!_ a big thigh-bone would afford him cover.” I felt my hand carried to Carinne’s lips in the darkness. Gusman kicked at the mound with his sabot. “Close litter,” said he. “A man would suffocate that burrowed into it.” “Is that so? Rake me over that big lump yonder--_voilà!_--with the little skull sticking from it.” I felt my heart turn like a mountebank--felt Carinne stoop suddenly and rise with something huddled in her hands. The astonishing child had, unknown to me, preconceived a plan and was prepared with it on the very flash of emergency. She leant past me, swift and perfectly silent, and immediately the little spars of light about the trap went out, it seemed. If in moving she made the smallest sound, it was opportunely covered by the ragged cough that issued at the moment from Gusman’s throat. “_Dépêche-toi!_” said the authoritative voice. “That projecting patch, citizen--turn it for me!” “There is nothing here.” “But, there, I say! No, no! _Mille tonnerres_,--I will come myself, then!” I heard Gusman’s breath vibrant outside the trap; heard him hastily raise the covering an inch or two, with an affectation of labouring perplexity. I set my teeth; I “saw red,” like flecks of blood; I waited for the grunt of triumph that should announce the discovery of the hole. “It is as I told thee,” said the deadman; “there is nothing.” I caught a note of strangeness in his voice, a suppressed marvel that communicated itself to me. The sweat broke out on my forehead. “H’mph!” muttered the inquisitor; and I heard him step back. Suddenly he cried, “_En avant, plus avant!_ To thy remotest boundaries, citizen warden! We will run the little rascal to earth yet!” The light faded from our ken; the footsteps retreated. I passed a shaking hand over my eyes--I could not believe in the reality of our escape. At length, unable any longer to endure the silence, I caught at Carinne in the blackness. “Little angel,” I said; “in God’s name, what didst thou do?” She bowed her sweet face to my neck. “Only this, Jean-Louis. I had noticed that my poor ragged skirt was much of the colour of this heap; and so I slipped it off and stuffed it into the hole.” * * * * * * * We dwelt an hour in our horrible retreat, from time to time cautiously lifting the trap a finger’s-breadth for air. At the end, Gusman reappeared with his torch and summoned us to our release. He looked at Carinne, as St Hildephonsus might have gazed on the Blessed Virgin. “It was magnificent,” he said. “I saw at once. Thou hast saved me no less than thyself. That I will remember, _citoyenne_, when the opportunity serves.” * * * * * * *