The ready colour suffused M. le Lieutenant's ingenuous countenance. He turned to his comrade. "Could you take her on, Carleton?" he asked. Mr. Carleton shook his head. "Don't know a word of the lingo," he replied unhelpfully. Mme. de la Vireville saw what was wrong. She pulled herself together for an effort. "You do not speak French, Messieurs, is it not? Eh bien, it is that my son is very ill, and he want to know if the little boy Anne de Flavigny--no, if ze fazzer of the little boy is . . . vivant . . . or kill'. Il le croit mort . . . and he have forgot"--she touched her forehead--"where he live in Londres. Cela le tracasse tant! You per'aps know it, Messieurs?" "Le petit garçon--oh, hang it! Madame, vous comprendre un peu anglais, don't you? The little boy lives with his grandfather, Mr. Elphinstone, in Cavendish Square, but his father--père, isn't it--ain't killed." Thus Mr. Tollemache, in the same bilingual style. "Mais . . . my son, he was sure . . ." "I've the best of reasons for knowing that de Flavigny is alive," said Mr. Tollemache stoutly, casting the French tongue momentarily to the winds. "I went to see them all last week, and he's getting on famously--can walk now. Porter bien . . . marcher . . . vous comprendre, Madame?" "Tollemache here saved his life," put in Mr. Carleton. "Pulled him out of that affair under the very noses of the sans-culottes. A deuced fine piece of work." But this information was couched in language too idiomatic for Mme. de la Vireville's comprehension. "M. de Flavigny n'est pas mort, alors?" said she, the conversation being evidently about to end in each party speaking his own tongue. "Non, pas mort," responded Mr. Tollemache. "Jolly as a sandboy--at least he will be. So's the little 'un. And the address is Cavendish Square. Shall I write it down . . . er . . . écrivez pour vous, Madame?" "Ah, M. le Lieutenant, if you could come to see my son a little five minute, to tell him about M. de Flavigny! Cela lui ferait tant de bien!" said Mme. de la Vireville, turning the wistful battery of her eyes on the young officer. And he capitulated unconditionally. (5) La Vireville was sitting that day, wrapped in a flowered dressing-gown, in the little bow window of the bedroom. It was promotion for him, yet Mr. Tollemache gave an exclamation when he entered. "By gad, you look as if you had been through a good deal!" he said, and then saw the empty sleeve, and was dumb. La Vireville stretched out his hand to him. "You behold in me, M. le Lieutenant," he observed, with rather a grim smile, "a twice condemned criminal. I have no right to be anywhere but underground. But what is the news you have to tell me, Monsieur?"