"Mademoiselle Blanche, I am sure you meant kindly by me, when you struck at me with so much contempt and cruelty. I assure you that I bear you no ill-will for what you said just now. With your permission I will call in to-night on my way back from the château to see how your dear father is bearing up. Frankly I am a little anxious about him. He is no age, but he has a tired heart, and he has had a great deal to endure to-day. Good night, mademoiselle."
After he had gone, Blanche roused herself sufficiently to go into the kitchen and order supper to be brought in at once. They all sat down to table and the old man said grace before he served the soup. They had just begun to eat, when a cabriolet drove up to the grille. A vigorous pull at the outside bell caused old Levet to rise. The family only kept one maid of all work and she was busy dishing up, so he went himself to the door as he most usually did: before he had time to reach the grille, the bell was pulled again.
"I wonder who that can be," Blanche remarked.
"Whoever it is seems in a great hurry," observed her brother.
Old Levet opened the door. Louis Maurin stepped over the threshold. He appeared breathless with excitement. Before Levet could formulate a question he thrust the old man back into the vestibule, exclaiming:
"Ah! my good friend! Such a calamity! Thank God I am just in time."
"In time for what?" Levet muttered. He had disliked the lawyer at all times, for he looked on him as a traitor and now a regicide, but never had he hated him so bitterly as he did to-day.
"I chanced to be at the Town Hall," Maurin went on, still breathlessly, "and heard that there is an order out for your arrest and I am afraid that the order includes your family — and your guest," he concluded significantly.
Levet appeared to take the news with complete indifference. The mock arrest of the Abbé Edgeworth by two emissaries of Monsieur le Professeur had assured him that the priest at any rate had nothing to fear. He gave a slight shrug and said quietly:
"Let them arrest me and my family, if they want to. We are willing to share the fate of our King."
"Don't talk like that, my dear friend," the lawyer admonished earnestly, "such talk has become really dangerous now. And you have your son and daughter to think of."
"They are of one mind with me," Levet retorted gruffly, "and if that is all you have come to say..."
Instinct of hospitality, which with old Levet amounted to a virtue, did prevent his ordering this "traitor" summarily out of his house.
"I came from pure motives of friendship," the young man rejoined, in a tone of gentle reproach, "to warn you of what was impending. The matter is far more serious than you seem to realise."
"I needed no warning. Loyal people like ourselves must be prepared these days for any calamity."
"But there is your guest..." Maurin put in.
"My guest? What guest?"
"The man you brought to your house this afternoon. The authorities have got to know of this surreptitious visit. It has aroused their suspicion. Hence the order for your arrest — and his."
Old Levet gave another shrug.
"There's no one here," he said coolly, "except my son and daughter and the maid."
"Come, come, my dear friend," the lawyer retorted, and his tone became more reproachful, and more gentle like that of a father admonishing his obstinate child, "you must not incriminate yourself by denying indisputable facts. I myself saw you introducing a stranger into your house, and your friend the professor can also bear witness to this."
"I tell you there's no stranger here," old Levet reasserted harshly. "And now I pray you to excuse me. My family waits with supper for me."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the sound of a rumble of wheels accompanied by the tramping of measured footsteps was heard approaching the house. There was a cry of "Halt!" outside the grille and then the usual summons: "In the name of the Republic!" the grille was thrust open, there was more tramping of heavy feet over the stone path to the house, and loud banging on the massive front door.
"What did I tell you?" Maurin queried. He pushed past old Levet and strode quickly across the vestibule to the dining-room, where at sound of that ominous call Blanche and Augustin had jumped to their feet. The lawyer put one finger to his lips and murmured rapidly:
"Do not be afraid. I am watching over you all. You have nothing to fear. But tell me quickly, where is the stranger?"
"The stranger?" Augustin responded. "What stranger?"
"You know quite well," the other retorted. "Your father's guest, whom he brought here this afternoon."
"There has been no one here all day," Augustin rejoined quietly. "My mother died. Dr. Pradel was here to certify. There has been no one else."
Maurin turned sharply to the girl.
"Blanche," he said earnestly, "tell me the truth. Where is your father's guest?"
"Augustin has told you, Louis," she replied, "there is no one here but ourselves."
"They will search the house you know," he insisted.
"Let them."
"And question your maid."
"She can only tell them the truth."
The lawyer was decidedly nonplussed. Looking about him, he could not help noticing that only three places were laid round the table, and that there were only three half-empty soup plates there, while the tureen still stood on the sideboard.
Through the door, which was ajar, he could hear old Levet give categorical replies to the questions which the sergeant of the guard put to him.
"There is no one here."
"Only the doctor came this afternoon."
"He came to certify."
"My son and daughter are at supper. My wife is dead. You can question the maid."
Maurin spoke once more to Blanche.
"Mademoiselle," he entreated, "for your own sake, tell me the truth."
"I have told you," she reasserted, "there is no one here except ourselves."
The lawyer smothered the harsh word which came to his lips: he said nothing more, however, turned on his heel and went out of the room.
"What is all this?" he asked curtly of the sergeant.
"You know best, citizen lawyer," was the soldier's equally curt reply.
"I?" Maurin retorted unblushingly. "What the devil has it got to do with me?"
"Well! it was you, I understand, who denounced these people."
"That is a lie," the other protested hotly.
"Who did then?"
"A friend of the family, Professor d'Arblay."
"Where is he?"
"He had an accident in the road. Sprained his ankle. He had to drive home."
"Where is his home?
"I don't know. I hardly know him."
"But you were with him in the Town Hall. You were seen coming out of the Chief Commissary's cabinet."
"I was there on professional business," the lawyer retorted tartly, "and you have no right to question me like that. I had nothing to do with this denunciation, as I have the honour of being on friendly terms with this family. And I may as well tell you that I shall use all the influence I possess to clear the whole of this matter up. So you had better behave decently while you are in this house. It won't be good for you if you do not."
He raised his voice and spoke peremptorily like one accustomed to be listened to with