"It is Wednesday," Tournay said. "On Saturday the convention has promised to send me back with my dispatches. Can you be ready for La Haye by Saturday morning?" "Yes," said Gaillard, "twelve hours earlier if necessary." "It is agreed then for Saturday, unless the convention delays." Three days after her meeting with Gaillard, Elise, on returning from a neighboring town where she had gone to dispose of some butter, found the kitchen deserted and the fire out. She had expected to find a bowl of hot potato soup and a plate of sausage and garlic. Instead she found a cold hearthstone and an empty casserole. As usual, the first thought of the devoted sister was of Paul, and she called his name loudly. It did not take long to ascertain that the house was empty, and with her heart beating wildly with anxiety she ran outside the cottage crying, "Oh, Paul, my child,--my brother, Paul!" There was no answer save from the cattle in the outhouse who shook their stanchions, impatient for their evening meal. She looked about for Père Louchet. He also was absent. Evidently he had driven in the cows and had been prevented from feeding them. Something serious had happened, and it must have occurred within an hour, for at this time the cattle were usually feeding. Elise sat down for a moment on an upturned basket to collect herself. Her first thought was to go to Maillot's in search of them. They might be there, yet it would take an hour to go to Maillot's and return. And then what if Louchet and Paul were not there! What if the couple had been murdered and the bodies were still on the farm? Elise shuddered at the thought, and called loud again, "Paul, Paul, my brother, art thou not here?" From the hay in the loft above came a smothered sound. With a glad cry Elise sprang up the stairs, to see Père Louchet's head and shoulders emerging from under a pile of clover. "Where is Paul?" cried Elise, pouncing upon him before he had freed himself from the hay, and almost dragging him to his feet. He blinked at her for a moment while he picked the stray wisps of straw from his hair and neck. "Gone," he said laconically. "Gone! Where?" cried Elise, frantically taking him by the shoulders and shaking him so that the hayseed and straw flew from his coat. "Père Louchet, what is the matter? I never saw you like this before; have you been drinking?" "No," he said slowly, and then as if the thought occurred to him for the first time, he went toward a cask of cherry brandy which stood in a corner of the granary and drew almost a tin-cupful. With blazing eyes Elise saw him measure out the liquor slowly, with a hand that trembled slightly, and put the cup to his lips. She felt as if she must spring upon him and dash the cup from his hands, but she controlled herself with an effort. Louchet drained off the brandy to the last drop, straightened up, and looked at Elise. He acted like a different man.