“I don’t know where she is. I haven’t any idea, but I’m glad she’s safe from you. Who knows, perhaps some one has come to her aid. That’s what I’m hoping.” As Lisle spoke, Humphrey Trail’s honest face came into his mind, and with it a certain confidence. Often during these past weeks he had thought of Humphrey, and gone over in his mind their last meeting. His pride had not let him take Humphrey’s advice and he had kept on with his visits to the bakery shop. He would have given a great deal to have seen Humphrey just at that minute. There was only one other person whom he would rather have seen, and that was Dian, the shepherd. “There’s one thing I know,” cried the baker, “and that is you need a good taste of a whip. And, as sure as my name’s Charles Tortot, you’ll get it this very night. I’ll see to it that you shed some big tears before you’re many hours older, my fine fellow!” The baker was so angry that he stuttered as he spoke, and his temper was not improved by Lisle’s next remark. “You couldn’t make me cry and you know it. I’m not afraid of you, and I think you know that, too,” he said. He was still leaning back against the table, his hands on the side of it. The baker glared at him but he had to admit to himself that his prisoner certainly did not look frightened, no matter how he may have felt. The baker looked at him for a moment, at his blue velvet suit, the freshly washed lace frills at his wrists, his white face and blue eyes, and the bright gold of his hair, tied back with its flare of ribbon. A silly whim of his wife’s and one that he should put a stop to. He stood there frowning at Lisle in the dusky twilight, and Lisle’s proud eyes frowned back at him. * * * * * Dian came in through the alley and climbed the rickety stairs to the room on the first landing. He had seen Raoul go through the gates an hour before, and knew that with him had gone the letters, one to Champar himself, and one for him to deliver to Grigge in Pigeon Valley. He was thinking of Lisle as he climbed the stairs, trying to plan out the best way to get a message to him. He knocked on the door and said, “This is Dian,” and Vivi opened it for him, smiling a welcome. “Dian, stay and talk with us. I have told Vivi everything I know and she has told me so many funny things about her life, but we’re tired now.” Rosanne came running across the room as she spoke, and, catching hold of the shepherd’s hand, drew him over by the window. He noted that she was pale, and for a moment his heart sank. Like Humphrey, he felt a responsibility for them all, but, unlike him, was able, after a moment, to banish his forebodings. “You will have many adventures to talk over with your friends when you are an old, old woman, Mademoiselle,” he said to her smilingly. “See what we have for supper! Humphrey brought us garlic and some fresh lettuce,” Rosanne went on, trying to be cheerful, and receiving a reward in Dian’s pleased smile.