"I need not tell you that the search for that document has been unceasing since I first arrived, and even before that. Every nook and cranny, from attic to cellar, has been ransacked without the slightest result. Unless the house itself is torn down, I see no possible hope of finding it. However, I do not yet utterly despair; and when the document does come to light, I will make the great disclosure to Louis and formulate my future plans. Circumstances _may_ be such, however, that I shall have to put him in possession of the secret before the document is found. I should be sorry for that, as I wish him to feel that our evidence concerning this strange story is complete. "And now, my friends, you know it all. I have hidden nothing from you. I have shown you my inmost heart. I have only one request--that you still keep this thing a secret from every one, especially from Louis." He stopped, and there was silence. The catbird above them had flown away. The river was unruffled by the slightest breath. The water had ceased its _lap-lap_. The afternoon stillness was complete. Carol and Sue sat motionless in their corner, their hands clasped, their eyes wide and intent. Suddenly the Imp flung herself to the ground and buried her face on the old French gentleman's knees, a passion of choking sobs shaking her little body. He laid his hand on her head and murmured in a startled voice: "Little one, little one! What is it that troubles you?" "O Monsieur, Monsieur!" she gasped. "What a little _beast_ I've been! Can you ever forgive me? _How_ I have misjudged you!" CHAPTER XVI AUGUST FOURTH, 1914 July 27, 1914. It is ten days since that strange afternoon down at the old boat-house on the river. I have been living in a kind of dream ever since. I cannot somehow believe that I'm just plain, ordinary Susan Birdsey, living on out-of-the-way little Paradise Green, to whom nothing unusual ever has or ever will happen. Paradise Green is no longer the prosaic place it was. It is the secret spot chosen by history as the home of one of her most romantic characters. Who would ever have thought it? And I, Susan Birdsey, am one of the three humble persons Fate has chosen to be the sharer of this marvelous secret. I cannot help thinking of what Miss Cullingford said when she suggested that we keep a journal,--that some journals had been interesting and valuable additions to history. That, at least, is what I never supposed mine could possibly be. And yet, if she could only see it _now_! But she never will, of course, nor any one else, for I have promised Monsieur that I will never, without his permission, reveal a single word of what he has told us. This is not, he says, because it would harm any one, or make the slightest change in the world's affairs, but because of the poor "lost dauphin's" wish.