“First of all your visits here--after certain rumours that I have circulated--would arouse suspicion. You must only come here at night time, and then only at hours agreed upon in advance--never when you are not expected.” Lacheneur paused, and then seeing that Maurice’s attitude implied unreserved consent, he added: “You must also find some way to cross the river without employing the ferryman, who is a dangerous fellow.” “We have an old skiff; I will persuade my father to have it repaired.” “Very well. Will you also promise me to avoid the Marquis de Sairmeuse?” “I will.” “Wait a moment--we must be prepared for any emergency. Perhaps in spite of our precautions you may meet him here. M. de Sairmeuse is arrogance itself; and he hates you. You detest him, and you are very hasty. Swear to me that if he provokes you, you will ignore his insults.” “But I should be considered a coward.” “Probably; but will you swear?” Maurice was hesitating when an imploring look from Marie-Anne decided him. “I swear it!” he said gravely. “As far as Chanlouineau is concerned it would be better not to let him know of our agreement; but I will see to that point myself.” Lacheneur paused once more and reflected for a moment whether he had left anything forgotten. “All that remains, Maurice,” he soon resumed, “is to give you a last and very important piece of advice. Do you know my son?” “Certainly; we were formerly the best of friends when we met during the holidays.” “Very well. When you know my secret--for I shall confide it to you without reserve--beware of Jean.” “What, sir?” “Beware of Jean. I repeat it.” And Lacheneur’s face flushed as he added: “Ah! it is a painful avowal for a father; but I have no confidence in my own son. He knows no more of my plans than I told him on the day of his arrival. I deceive him, because I fear he might betray us. Perhaps it would be wise to send him away; but in that case, what would people say? Most assuredly they would say that I wanted to save my own blood, while I was ready to risk the lives of others. Still I may be mistaken; I may misjudge him.” He sighed, and again added: “Beware!” It will be understood from the foregoing that it was really Maurice d’Escorval whom the Marquis de Sairmeuse perceived leaving Lacheneur’s cottage on the night he played the spy. Martial was not positively certain of the fugitive’s identity, but the very idea made his heart swell with anger. “What part am I playing here, then?” he exclaimed indignantly.