“Will M’sieu not betray that he has seen me before? It is important.” “Oui.” Roy tossed two more bits of wood into the _hotte_. Then he stood up, yawned, and stared listlessly in another direction. After which he hung lazily over the _hotte_, as if to play with the wood, and under cover of it a touch of cold steel came against his left hand. “Hist!”—at the same instant. Roy grasped and slipped the something securely out of reach and out of sight, without a moment’s hesitation. His right hand still turned over the wood. “Bon!” Jean murmured, making a considerable clatter. Then, low and clearly—“Listen! If M’sieu will file away the bar of his window—ready to be removed—I will be there outside, to-morrow night after dark. When M’sieu hears a whistle—hist! But truly this weight is considerable—oui, M’sieu—and a poor man like me may not complain.” Jean hitched up the big _hotte_, now full, and passed on, grumbling audibly, while Roy strolled back to his former position. His heart was beating like a hammer, and he dreaded lest he might betray his change of mood in his face. To return to his former dejected attitude was not easy when new life was stirring in every vein; but he managed to shirk observation, and when two o’clock came it was a relief to be alone in his cell. He could safely there fling his arms aloft in a frenzy of delight. If only little Will might have escaped with him! That thought lay as a weight of sorrow in his joy. But there was little leisure for regrets. He had a task to accomplish in a given time, and it might not be an easy task. Many a time he had examined the stout iron bar wedged firmly in across the small window. If that could be taken out, he would be able to squeeze himself through; but to take out the bar, or at least to move it on one side, meant first to file nearly through it—quite through, indeed, for the noise of breaking it might not be risked. What might lie on the other side, down below, he could only guess, since the deep embrasure within, and the thickness of the wall without, prevented him from seeing. The gendarmes visited him at stated intervals, and he could pretty well reckon upon their visits; yet he knew well that he was never secure against a sudden interruption at any moment. He had to work at the bar in a difficult and cramped position, supporting himself in a corner of the slanting embrasure and filing lightly, so that no sound should reach the ears of any passer-by outside, while his own hearing had to be incessantly strained towards the cell-door to catch the faintest intimation of anybody entering.