“No, no, Neville, tell us also. Tell us all there is to know!” “Tell us that maman and Lisle are well and safe.” Marie Josephine put her arm on Neville’s ragged coat as she spoke. “Safe,” he answered. “Safe enough so far and there seems to be no real danger for them yet, but the city—ah, Madame, the city!” “Yes, yes, tell us. What of the city?” It was the governess who spoke. “Marat has control of everything. They have taken twenty thousand stand of arms from the homes of royalists and most of the royalists who could escape have done so, but now the city gates are closely guarded. The comtesse and Monsieur Lisle will not leave because, for one reason, your great-aunt, the Marquise du Ganne, is old and ailing. She cannot escape, and they could not leave her in the city as it is now. More than that, we see no way for them to escape, even if it should be that Madame du Ganne should not live!” Neville fumbled in his pocket. “I have a letter to you all from Madame la Comtesse and there is a note for Little Mademoiselle from Monsieur Lisle. It was not really safe to bring them but I took the risk.” He brought out the two notes, handing one to Madame le Pont and the other to Marie Josephine, who caught it and held it close to her heart, the red shawl falling to the ground at her feet unheeded. She opened it and read: TO MY SISTER MARIE JOSEPHINE: Maman and I are deeply interested in the progress of our royalist armies and the good news that Austria has promised aid. This troublesome time is but for the moment. We are very comfortable with Henri to take care of us. How is Flambeau? My respects to Madame and the girls and greetings to Dian. See to it that you are patient and unafraid. My love to you, Lisle Georges Montfleur Saint Frère. _Postscript._ Tell Dian I will have some stories to match his one day. As Marie Josephine stood there under the stars, the letter clasped in her hands, the words that her mother had spoken on the morning that they had left for Les Vignes came back to her: “There may come a time later on when it will not be so easy to get away!” CHAPTER VIII HUMPHREY TRAIL “Minuit!” A little girl peered through the gloom of a dark alley, toward the rue Saint Antoine. Her thin, eager face looked anxious and her black eyes darted here and there in search of him who until very recently had been her best friend in all the world, Minuit, an alley cat! “It’s time to go to bed, ma mie. Come to Vivi,” she called again and suddenly from out of the greyness of the deserted alley, a gaunt, long shape appeared. It was Minuit and when he saw Vivi he ran up to her with a welcoming meow. She stooped and gathered him into her arms, hugging him close to her.