“Now I’ll tell you what you can do. Go up those stairs and you’ll find a nice little room at the top. It has tables and chairs just like this one, and there’s a fireplace there. I built a bit of fire early, for the mill gets damp even on spring nights. You both go up there and rest, and I’ll bring your coffee up to you. I’ll bring a bone and some milk for the dog, too,” she said. Marie Josephine’s heart beat fast as she listened. Did the woman remember how she had fed Flambeau the summer before? Could it be that she was the person underneath the oak? This dark woman at the inn had been spying on them at Les Vignes! Marie Josephine followed Jean up the funny winding stairs. They found the room at the top. There were tables and chairs in it, just as the woman had said. They went over to a table near the small fire. There were white muslin curtains at the single window and a pot of geraniums stood on the sill. It was a neat, cheerful room, and if she had not been anxious, Marie Josephine would have loved it, for the fact that the familiar, old olive mill, which she had always known, had been turned into an inn interested her very much. As it was, she turned to Jean as soon as they had shut the door, and catching him firmly by the arm, whispered fiercely: “It’s not safe here. She’s a spy. I saw her under our oak tree last night. I saw her going through the wood. There’s a dark cloak on the chair by the door downstairs. She wore it last night and she hasn’t been back very long, even though she did have four hours’ start of us. She knows who I am. Flambeau gave us away. She remembers him from last summer when we stopped here for déjeuner. Hush! I hear her!” Marie Josephine ran across the room and, when the door opened, she was looking out of the window. The side of the mill was painted green and there was an eave’s trough along it. An apple tree showing faintly pink and white swayed in the early morning breeze, its branches making a tapping sound as they flapped against the rough wall of the mill. The woman Paulette came across to the fire and put down a tray. “I had a sip of coffee early myself and so I just warmed some up for the two of you. It’s cold in the morning around here, even if spring has come,” she said. “Draw up to the table now and make yourselves at home. The brown bread will be to your taste, and there’s honey in the blue dish. Here’s milk for the dog.” The woman took a tin dish off the tray and, bending over, called, “Come, doggie,” as she put it on the floor. Marie Josephine went over to the table and sat down, and Jean followed her example. He was astonished at what his friend had told him. Suddenly he felt so tired after walking all night that he was not a bit like his usual bright, eager self.