“With a convoy of prisoners. Yes. Been a good while about it, too. First part of the way in a waggon, after that on horseback. Tell me how they all are here. I have heard nothing for ages.” “I’ll come and show you the way. The Colonel keeps all right. Looks older than he used, that’s all. Mrs. Baron is well. One fancied at the time that Roy’s being sent to Bitche would kill her outright; but it didn’t. Having to devote herself to Ivor was a mercy in disguise, I don’t doubt. Kept her from dwelling on her own trouble. It was a vast relief to them all, when the kind fellow, who got Roy away, came and told them he’d seen the boy safe on board a vessel for England. He was well rewarded by the Colonel, as you may suppose—not that he did it for reward! But, of course, we don’t breathe a word about it in Verdun, for the fellow’s own sake. Only, as I know them well, and as I know you belong to them——” Jack made a gesture of assent. “Ivor was ill, was he not?” “I daresay he would have been so anyhow, after the march from Valenciennes; but the arrest of Roy was a finishing stroke. You won’t find him looking good for much now. I suppose hardly anything could have knocked him down like the death of Sir John Moore. It is a fearful loss to the country. No man living could have been worse spared.” Curtis paused, cast a glance at Jack, and changed the subject. Presently they reached the house, where still the Barons lived, as ever since their first arrival in Verdun. “By-the-by, I’m not sure whether you’ll find them in,” he said. “The Colonel at _appel_ said he was going to take Ivor with his wife for a drive in the country, hoping it might do him good. It was worth trying. But I think they may have returned before now.” “You’re allowed to go where you will?” “Why, no! _Douceurs_ are efficacious, however. Will you let me show you the way upstairs?” Jack hesitated. “No, I understand. Of course, you’d rather see them first alone; and I didn’t mean to go in. But you can’t mistake the room. First landing, first door to the right.” Curtis vanished, and Jack, obeying the directions, came to a door slightly ajar. He pushed it wider, and went softly through. It was a good-sized salon; empty, except for the presence of one man, writing at a side table. By build and bearing, Jack recognised Ivor instantly; but, finding himself unnoticed, he had a fancy not at once to make his presence known. He drew a few steps nearer, and then stood motionless. He had a good side-view of the other.