The firing had ceased with the blowing up of the bastions. Up on the heights the besiegers clustered thick as bees, watching with awe the results of their long and arduous labours. Below them a thin trickle of creeping looters was already making its way through the ruined suburbs into the burning city. Jim and Greski returned to their cellar; Jim to fig himself out in the remains of his uniform, Greski to collect such of the family valuables as could be easily carried; and then, with madame and Tatia on their arms, they set off, by devious ways which avoided burning and tottering buildings, crossed the black desolation of the southern suburbs, and came out on this side of the Quarantine Ravine, nearly opposite the cemetery. The looters, mostly red-trousered Zouaves, looked askant at Jim's uniform and slipped past quietly. All they wanted was plunder, and they feared to be stopped. How this young English Hussar officer had managed to get in so quickly puzzled them, but he had evidently got all he wanted. So--_allons, mes enfants!_ and let us lay hands on all we can, before the rest of our brave allies arrive! Jim knew his way as soon as they had been passed through the lower trenches, and made straight for his father's tent. The camps were almost empty. Everyone was down at the front staring at the burning town. Outside the well-known tent in the hollow, however, an orderly was hard at work scraping the mud off his master's overcoat. "Where is Colonel Carron?" asked Jim expectantly. But the man looked back at him stolidly and said, "I do not know, monsieur." "But this is his tent." "Monsieur is mistaken. This is the tent of M. the Colonel Gerome--if he is still alive, _man Dieu!_ He went into Malakoff yesterday and we have not seen him since." "And where is Colonel Carron, then?" "I do not know, monsieur. It is only three months since I came out. Is it all over, as they say?" "We have Sebastopol," said Jim, "or part of it." And he quickly pushed on along the road to French Head-quarters. A squadron of lancers came down the road at a fast trot, gleaming in the sun and jingling bravely. Their leader looked curiously at the odd little company, for ladies were refreshingly rare in camp. Then he suddenly drew rein and saluted, and Jim knew him. They had met many times in the tent in the hollow. "You, M. Carron? Why, we gave you up for dead long ago!" "Where is my father, du Bourg? I've been to his tent----" "_Mon Dieu!_--and you have not heard? I am sorry to have to tell it, but you would have to hear. Colonel Carron was killed six months ago, repulsing a sortie." And, as he saw Jim's face fall, he added: "If you have had no news for six months, _mon ami_, be prepared for the worst. You will find very few of your friends left. Where have you been?" "Prisoner inside since December."