"They had use for you, I think," said Anthony. "They had plans, had they not? And these plans mademoiselle did not altogether favor. Am I right? They wanted her influence away. They desired you to be alone and unadvised." Monsieur Lafargue got up. His face was gray and drawn; his legs shook under him. "At my years," said he, "the mind does not think directly. I may have been wrong in acting against your wish," to the girl; "but it was for France; it was for the republic, one and indivisible. Do not our enemies crowd the sea? Only a word was asked of me. It was a word that would launch a blow against the enemy. Could I withhold it?" "Please, please!" said the girl, and the gentleness in her voice made Anthony marvel. "There is no one to blame you." Her arms were tightly about him. "No one _can_ blame you!" "Is it wrong to do a deed for one's country?" said monsieur. "If the fat bustards flock in the air, shall I not loose the hawks against them? If a man puts a weapon in my hand to use against the foes of France, am I to think that man a--" He sagged here, and for an instant the girl held his weight; then Anthony carried him to a sofa and laid him carefully down. "He is old," said the girl; "he is very old. And he is not strong." In a few moments, under her ministrations, he began to revive. She looked at Anthony. "He has been uneasy," she said, "and this was too much for him." Anthony took up his hat, but at the head of the stairs he paused. "I hope," said he, "that I have made certain things plain. And I urge you to close your mind to these people, for they are your enemies as they are mine." And so he followed the quadroon maid down the stairs and went out of the house. For an hour or more he paced the streets, his mind full of the girl; and then he went home. The door of his room he found unlocked, which was not usual. Inside there was the smell of burnt paper, the fireplace was choked with a blackened mass of ash; upon the floor lay the covers of some half-dozen of Rufus Stevens' Sons' old ledgers. The dates on the backs of them told Anthony they were of the period of Lucas and Carberry; and he sat down and stared dully at the ruin of that upon which he had counted so much. XXVIII Charles Stevens stared when Anthony told him of the burning of the old ledgers. Then he smiled. "What matter?" said he. "It's a curious happening, to be sure; but let them go, and think no more of them." Anthony put his hand on his uncle's arm. "Through those books," said he, "I hoped to come at certain things that have been troubling this house." "What things?" asked Charles. He wore a smiling lightness; but there was a sick look in his eyes.