The copy of this return, deluged with sand in Dick's impatience to dry the ink, followed the artillery account to concealment, and Dick, casting a peculiar smile across the table at the busily writing adjutant, went on copying the colonel's correspondence. Presently candles were lighted by the attendant. Then in came Colonel Maclean, shaking off the snow and blustering at the cold, and accompanied by two officers, one of whom said, hastening to the fireplace: "I'll wager this is the kind of weather they've been waiting for, though, to be sure, one never knows when they may melt away in the night, as--who the devil's that?" The colonel turned to look where the speaker did, but saw only a flying figure that darted through the door, plunged past the guards, and was gone in the falling snow and gathering gloom. The figure was Dick's, for the man who had spoken was Lieutenant Blagdon. Dick had been minded for an instant to stay and outface him. But on the heels of that impulse had come the thought that Blagdon knew sufficient that differed from the name and nationality and other particulars Dick had given Maclean, to prove the imposture, and that the word of a well-known British officer would of course be taken against Dick's. Hence the timely bolt for the street. He had turned naturally in the direction that led towards Palace Street, at which thoroughfare he arrived without having attracted attention, his rapid pace being that which a soldier might use in carrying a hurried order. He knew Palace Street by its width and the rich appearance of its houses. Not looking back to see whether a pursuit had yet been started, he turned leftward and hastened on, now changing his gait from a run to a rapid stride. Duty required that he should first make safe his information by finding Mere Frappeur and entrusting it to her. He asked an artisan where her wine shop was, but the artisan was French and shook his head in sign of not understanding. A short distance farther on, Dick picked out an English face among the snow-pelted passers-by, and repeated his question. "About the fifth or sixth house in the second little street to the right," replied the Englishman, who had the look of a merchant's clerk; "the street that turns off beyond the St. Valier house,--the house with the large garden."