"It means, Mademoiselle Brunelle," retorted Toinon, trembling with ire, "that Madame la Marquise is reaping the earthly reward of divine forbearance. But you can goad even her too far, as you had cause to know when you were ignominiously expelled from the chateau." The dusky face of Algaé darkened a shade, and her heavy mobile brows lowered over her eyes with menace. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave vent to a rumbling laugh. "Circumstances alter cases," she observed, with exasperating composure. "You always did me the honour to dislike me. When I am mistress here, it is you who will be expelled. You are silent? Come--that is better. Go to your room and mind your business, and perhaps no harm will come to you." "I will send over to Montbazon," returned Toinon, striving hard to conceal her growing terror. "M. de Vaux and the Seigneurie will interfere for madame's protection." "Do you think so?" inquired Algaé, with interest. "The de Vaux are nice people, if timid, who were always kind to me. I hardly think they are likely to interfere." "What have you done?" asked Toinon, her heart sinking within her. "I had the honour to send a messenger to Montbazon this morning to announce with deep regret that Madame la Marquise de Gange had been seized with a malignant fever." "You did that?" gasped the abigail. "You know, you wicked woman, that the marquise is in perfect health." The concierge had withdrawn discreetly out of hearing, and with sturdy legs straddled apart, was softly whistling. No help was to be hoped for from that quarter, or from any other, apparently. The possibility of a casual visit from the inhabitants of Montbazon had been skilfully prevented. The household was on the side of the conspirators, just as this concierge was, no doubt of it. What sound was that? A horse's hoofs. Jean Boulot at last! The heart of the abigail gave such a leap that she staggered and would have fallen but for Algaé's sustaining hand. The latter had also heard the ominous ring of hoofs, and seizing Toinon roughly, began to push her towards the house. "Go in, you little fool," she hissed. "Cannot you see that you are a prisoner, and that your treatment depends upon your conduct." "I will not go," Toinon cried, tussling with all her strength against the iron grip of Algaé. "It is Jean, by the goodness of Heaven, sent to succour us in time. Jean, Jean," she shouted; "it is I, Toinon. We are alive, but in sorest peril." The cries of the luckless waiting maid died away in a gurgle. She was rapidly pushed along by the ex-governess, who hurriedly unwound a scarf and twisted it tight about her mouth. Toinon was fainting and half-stifled when Mademoiselle Brunelle flung her within a door, closed it, and turned the key.