“A man’s voice,” said Ralph doubtfully, nodding towards the door of a room on the other side of the bar. “That’s the room in which Mother Vasseur always gives me my meals,” said the Countess. “I expect some of the villagers are in it.” On her words the door of it opened and a woman well on in years, wearing an apron and sabots, came out of it. At the sight of the Countess she appeared utterly flabbergasted, shut the door sharply behind her and stuttered something they could not understand. “What’s the matter?” said Josephine Balsamo in a tone of anxiety. Mother Vasseur dropped into a chair and murmured more clearly: “Be off!... Bolt!... Be quick!” “But why? Explain?” said the Countess. The old woman got control of herself and said: “Detectives.... They’re hunting for you.... They’ve searched your trunks.... They’re expecting the policemen from the town.... Run away, or you’re lost!” The Countess tottered, and looking as if she were about to faint, leaned against the bar. Her eyes met Ralph’s in a supplication. It was for all the world as if she thought that she was lost and begged him to help her. Ralph was stupefied. He stammered: “B-b-but what d-d-do the police matter to you? It isn’t you they’re looking for!... Why on earth----” “Yes, yes! It is her!” said Mother Vasseur. “They are looking for her!... Save her!” Without grasping the full significance of this astonishing scene, Ralph divined that here was something in the nature of a tragedy. He caught the Countess by the arm, drew her to the door, and thrust her through it. But crossing the threshold first, she started back in affright and cried: “The police! They have seen me!” The two of them hastily stepped back into the house. Mother Vasseur was trembling in every limb; she muttered stupidly: “The police ... the detectives.” “Be quiet!” snapped Ralph in a low voice, keeping quite calm. “I’ll answer for its being all right. How many detectives are there?” “Two.” “And two policemen. Then it’s no use trying force; and we’re surrounded. Where are those trunks they’ve searched?” “Upstairs.” “Where’s the staircase to them?” “Here,” she said, pointing to the door on the right. “Right. You stay here; and don’t give yourself away. Once more I tell you, I’ll answer for its turning out all right.” Again he took the Countess by the arm and drew her towards the door Mother Vasseur had pointed out. A very narrow staircase brought them to a bedroom under the sloping roof. About it were spread all the frocks and lingerie which the detectives had turned out of two trunks. As they came into it they heard the two detectives come out of the room in which they had been lunching, into the bar; and when Ralph, crossing the room on noiseless feet, peered out through the window under the eaves, he saw the two policemen dismount and tie the reins of their horses to the posts of the garden gate.