"Good! You could not expect a chest of tools; the jailer searched me thoroughly. Untie that little file from the hair. Can you do it?" "I think so." "I tied it quite firmly for fear it would fall out. Do not be afraid of pulling my hair, but do not pull the wig off. You may take both hands,--the turnkey is not paying any attention,--as if you were arranging your old uncle's coat collar." "I'll have it in a moment. There!" "Slip this up your sleeve, my colonel. Now a few questions and remarks. How many bars has your window?" "Four." "How long will it take you to file them all?" Tournay considered. "We could only work in any safety in the middle of the night, perhaps four hours in the twenty-four." "How long do you think it will take you to cut through the four bars?" Tournay thought for a moment. "We can work only at intervals in the dead of night," he replied, "so it may take several days." "Good! In four days I will bring you a rope." "In God's name, Gaillard, how can you manage to bring a rope into this place?" "I am not certain of that point yet, but I shall manage it," was the cool rejoinder. "My dear Gaillard, I believe you. If you were to promise me to bring a spire of Notre Dame wrapped up in gold paper I should expect to see it at the appointed hour. With a rope in our possession and the bars cut, we can get down the forty feet to the yard beneath. But there is the sentry, and the difficulty of escape from the yard!" "I will take care of the sentry and the escape," replied Gaillard, "and in four days I shall be here again. Meanwhile cut through the bars so that you can push them out of place at any moment. Attention; here comes the turnkey. "Good-by, my nephew. Be of good cheer. A good patriot need have no fear," said Gaillard in a quavering voice. "Good-by, my uncle," rejoined Tournay as he went back to his cell. "I shall see you then next week at the same hour," he called out through the bars of the door. "Yes." "Well, then, good-by again. Mind the step. Be careful lest my uncle trip, citizen turnkey; he is old and rather venturesome for one of his years." CHAPTER XXI CITIZENESS PRIVAT "Agatha," said Mademoiselle de Rochefort, "I am going back to Paris." Agatha turned and looked at her mistress in the greatest surprise. "Do I understand you, mademoiselle, or am I dreaming? It is impossible that you could have said"-- "I am going back to Paris." Edmé repeated the words quietly, but there was a decision in her manner which Agatha understood full well. She gave a gasp of consternation and sank into a chair, fixing her wide-open eyes upon Edmé's face, while she waited to hear more. Edmé was seated in her bedroom in the Castle of Hagenhof. It was evening, and two candles, one upon the dressing-table, the other upon a stand at Agatha's side, gave to the room a mild half-light. The curtains were not yet drawn, and through the large casement the stars gleamed softly.