Cécile came up to him and spoke to him gently, her eyes looking straight into his as she held out her hand. “In spite of all you say, you are saving our lives,” she said. “May I see the note from Dian? I know his writing. We must be very sure, you understand, at a time like this!” The driver put his hand inside his belt and drew out his note from Dian. Cécile read it and then addressed Madame le Pont. “It is from Dian. He says that we are in danger and in an emergency this man is to help us. We are to go to some hiding place near Calais and wait there for help.” Cécile’s voice shook with excitement, in spite of her outward calmness. The driver turned to Grigge. “The boy here will see to you after that. I have to go straight to Calais and dare not be late. All you can expect from me is the use of my coach as far as I think it best to take you without too much risk to myself. I’ll tell the shepherd where you are, or get word to him safely, but be sure to understand that it’s for his sake I’m doing this, and not yours!” There was no time to lose, the driver had said. It seemed as though the minutes had wings. They planned, discussed, rummaged in the servants’ old apartments, found suitable clothes, and put them on. Then they packed special valuables which Neville buried in the ground. At last they were ready to start. First they went through the woods to Mother Barbette’s cottage. They had sent Grigge and the driver to beg her to go with them, but she insisted that nothing could induce her to do so. She would wait there for her naughty, darling Jean. The driver told her she was right. “Nothing can happen to you if you go to your cousins in the hovel,” he told her. Mother Barbette wept bitterly as she saw them coming toward her through the clearing in the woods. They did not seem at all funny to her in their disguise, though at another time she would have had a hearty laugh at Bertran in his farmer boy’s smock, his hair flapping about his face, and at the dignified Hortense in faded grey homespun, her hair in stiff braids on each side of her ears. It was no time for laughter. They were all tense and white. The governess put her head on Mother Barbette’s shoulder with a sob as she said good-by. “We will surely find the children and bring them safely back with us when we come,” she said brokenly. “They are safe. I’m sure of it, and I don’t worry half as much as you think I do, Madame. I know them both so well. They are so smart. I know my Jean will come back to me, and I think that Dian will bring him,” answered the simple soul bravely, though the tears ran down her cheeks. “Dear Mother Barbette, this isn’t good-by. It’s just au revoir. We will not rest until we find Marie Josephine and Jean.” As she spoke, Cécile put her arms around Mother Barbette and kissed her. The driver, who was really a kind-hearted soul, cleared his throat.