They walked through the rue Saint Antoine in silence, Humphrey Trail holding fast to Vivi’s hand on one side, Dian’s long, slow stride keeping pace with their short, quick ones. They turned into the dark, dank alley. Humphrey opened the door which sagged on its hinges. They mounted the rickety stairs, waited while Humphrey unlocked the door, and then went inside, Vivi running ahead. Rosanne was standing by the fire which was smouldering sulkily in the rusty grate. She turned at the sound of the unlocking of the door, and was facing them when they entered. She saw Dian before the other two, because he so towered above them. For a moment she stood still as a statue. Then with a cry that was like a sob she ran across the room to him. CHAPTER XVI MARIE JOSEPHINE IS READY Spring had come early in Paris. It was a fortnight since Dian had gone to the alley and found Rosanne, since the wonderful evening when they had sat by the poor little fire of broken boxes and talked and talked. There they were in the heart of a city that had gone mad, one of them in hiding to save her life, all of them in gravest danger if once their real purpose were known, but all of them so happy. When it was time for the two girls to go to sleep on their cot, Humphrey and Dian went up to the room above and sat, one on each side of the table, pondering what it was best to do. “Th’ lad is there in the bakery shop. Tha found his poor note in th’ cake. The Lord is good. What a way! Odds me, what a way!” Humphrey muttered to himself. His heart was full, but some of his burden had rolled away. This quiet shepherd of the valley was at hand to help. He knew where Lisle was imprisoned and they could take counsel together. Dian knew no English, and Humphrey’s French, as we know, was limited; but they managed to converse, and from the first they understood each other. “I have a friend of many a year who would be fair willin’ to help us with a boat. He’s a skipper of his own vessel, the _Sandlass_. They’ve made young master Lisle’s mother prisoner in her aunt’s house. It is not safe for any of the family to be in Paris,” said Humphrey. “It is not safe for any of the family to be in France, not for any of them.” Dian repeated the last words slowly, adding, “It soon may be unsafe in Pigeon Valley!” He was silent for a few minutes, and a deep gravity touched his face, an earnestness that was like a prayer. Then, as he looked across at Humphrey and saw the misery on his round face, he smiled his slow smile. “You have done well and you speak words of comfort. Tell me the name of your friend who owns the boat and write him a letter,” he said. Humphrey Trail looked at Dian in amazement. “His name is Anastasius Grubb. But what good will that do? Tha knows well there is no way to send a letter through the gates, or to be sure it will reach my friend!” he exclaimed.