He had already possessed himself of M. Duchâtel's papers, reserving their perusal, however, for a more favourable opportunity, and now, picking up Anne-Hilarion's passport, he tiptoed to the door of the inner room, and listened for a moment. Singularly little noise, on the whole, had attended his assault on Anne's guardian, and there was complete silence the other side of the door, yet La Vireville's heart was nearer his mouth than it had yet been, for a child's shrill scream either of joy or terror--and Anne must be thoroughly unnerved by this time--might bring the house about them. However, the possibility had to be faced, so he opened the door a little and called the boy's name softly. There was no answer, and as the room was in darkness the rescuer had perforce to take the lamp from the larger apartment, and to enter, shading it with one hand. The Comte de Flavigny was fast asleep in the wide bed, which looked large in the little room, and in which he himself appeared very small, lonely, and pathetic, with one hand under a flushed cheek and the other clutching fast the edge of the patchwork quilt. "The poor baby!" thought La Vireville, but had no time to spend upon sentiment. The main thing, for both their sakes, was to wake him without startling him. "If I were really the nurse whose duties I now seem to be taking upon myself," thought the Chouan, "I should know better what to do." He put down the lamp and stooped over the child, shaking the small shoulder very gently, and calling him by name, a hand ready to clap over his mouth if he should scream. At the third or fourth repetition of his name Anne-Hilarion stirred. "It is not time, Elspeth," he murmured rather crossly, and buried his face in the pillow. "It is not time to get up, I tell you!" "But it is," asserted La Vireville; "high time. Anne, my little one. . . ." He put his arms under him and lifted him up a trifle. Anne gave a great sigh and opened his eyes. "Is it thou, Papa? I dreamed--I had such a horrible dream. . . ." Then he returned more fully to waking life. "Who is it?" he said shrilly, beginning to struggle in the strong arms like a captured bird. "It is I, my child--your friend the Chevalier," said La Vireville, kissing him. "Don't make a noise, little cabbage! See, I am going to take you back to England. But you must be quiet, above all things!" Anne-Hilarion looked up into his face, the fear in his eyes changed to an almost incredulous joy. "Oh, M. le Chevalier!" he exclaimed. Then he threw his arms round his friend's neck and held him very tight. "Oh, how glad I am! how good of you to come!" he whispered fervently. "But the--that other man in there?" "He will not trouble us--not, at least, if we are quick. Get into your clothes, Anne, faster than you have ever done in your life. _Can_ you get into them?" asked the Chouan a little doubtfully, setting the half-clothed figure down upon the bed, and looking round in the lamplight for more garments.