“And Dominique has let you come?”
“Yes; but only for an hour. One bold swift stroke, at night, and immediate flight.”
“And it’s tonight, is it?” he said anxiously.
“Yes, tonight between ten and eleven. Ralph is living at an isolated keeper’s lodge, not far from the old tower to which Beaumagnan had me taken. That lodge is let into the big wall of the park. And on the other side of it, which looks on the country, there is only one window, on the ground floor, and no door. If the shutters are closed, to get into it you have to go round through the park gates and along the inside of the wall. The two keys will be under a stone close to the park gates tonight. When Ralph is asleep we shall roll him up in his mattress and blankets and bring him here. The moment we’ve got him, we set sail.”
“Is that all?” said Leonard.
Josephine hesitated before she replied: “That’s all.”
“And what about Dominique?”
“He will go with us.”
Leonard bent forward, tried to see her face clearly in the darkness, and said: “You haven’t given him any special orders?”
“What about?”
“About Clarice. You hate that girl. Therefore I’m afraid that you may have entrusted Dominique with some job.”
She hesitated again before replying: “That’s no business of yours.”
“Nevertheless—” he said doubtfully.
The ladder was let down for them to get into the boat. Josephine said in a mocking tone: “Listen, Leonard. Since I created you Prince Lavosneff and provided you with a yacht splendidly fitted out, you have become extraordinarily discreet. But we’ll stick to our agreement, if you don’t mind. I command: you obey. You have the right to an explanation. I have given it to you. Act as if it was sufficient.”
“It is sufficient,” said Leonard glumly. “And I recognize that you have laid your plans admirably.”
“All the better. Let’s be starting.”
She led the way down the ladder and settled herself in the stern of the boat.
Leonard and four of their confederates followed him. Two of them took the oars, another the rudder-strings, she directed their course in a low voice.
A quarter of an hour later, though her followers had the impression that they were moving forward blindly, she said: “We’re passing Amont harbor.”
From time to time she warned the steersman of rocks that rose above the surface of the sea and directed his course by landmarks invisible to the rest of them. The crunching of the keel upon the pebbles was the first thing to inform them that they had reached the beach. They carried her ashore, then beached the boat.
“You’re quite certain that we shan’t meet any coast guards?” whispered Leonard.
“Quite certain. Dominique’s last telegram was quite definite.”
“Isn’t he coming to meet us?” asked Leonard.
“No. I wrote to him to remain at the château among the other servants. He will meet us at eleven.”
“Where?”
“Near Ralph’s lodge. Don’t talk any more.”
All of them were lost to sight in the priest’s staircase. Once in it, Josephine lit a bull’s-eye lantern she had brought with her. They mounted the staircase, in silence.
On the top of the cliff the mist was much thinner. At intervals there were gaps in it through which they could see the stars. Therefore Josephine was at once able to point out to them La Haie d’Etigues, many of the front windows of which were lit up. The clock of Benouville church struck ten. Josephine shivered.
“Oh, the striking of that clock! How well I recognize it! Ten strokes like the last time I heard it—ten strokes—one after the other! I counted them as I was going to my death.”
“Well, you avenged yourself all right,” said Leonard.
“On Beaumagnan, yes. But the others—”
“On the others too. The two cousins are half mad.”
“It’s true,” she said. “But I shall not feel myself fully avenged for an hour. Then I shall be able to rest.”
They waited for the mist to drift over again in order that their figures might not stand out against the bare plain they had to traverse. Then Josephine led the way along the path, along which Godfrey and his friends had carried her to the priest’s staircase. The others followed in single file without saying a word. The grass had been cut; here and there stood large haycocks.
As they drew near to La Haie d’Etigues the path ran between high banks covered with bushes between which they marched with growing carefulness.
The wall rose in front of them. A few more steps, and the lodge, in which Ralph had taken up his abode, came into view. Josephine halted them with a gesture.
“Wait for me,” she said.
“Shall I come with you?” Leonard asked.
“No. I will come back for you and we will go into the park together through the gate which is on the other side of it, on our left.”
She went forward alone, therefore, setting down her feet so carefully that no stone rolled under her sole and no leaf rustled at the contact of her skirt. She came to the window of the keeper’s lodge.
She took hold of the shutters very gently. The fastenings, with which Dominique had tampered, did not hold them together. She opened them till a little light came through the opening. Then she glued her eye to it and looked into a room, on the further side of which was a recess with a bed in it.
Ralph was in the bed. A lamp, with a crystal globe and a cardboard shade on the top of it, showed clearly in the circle of its light his face, his shoulders, the book he was reading, and his clothes heaped up on the chair beside the bed. He looked young indeed, with something of the air of a boy who is giving all his attention to a task, but at the same time struggling against sleep. Several times his head dropped forward. He awoke, forced himself to read, and again dozed off.
At length he shut
