The two vehicles when loaded were run into an empty carriage house,
whose door I locked, rather ashamed of my precautions.

Night had fallen and the incoming stream of refugees demanded our every
attention. Madame Guix was occupied with two women whose physical
condition was such that it was impossible to refuse them beds, come what
might--and as I crossed the vestibule in search of some instruments, the
shadow of a woman and two little girls came up the steps. "Could I give
them lodgings?" begged the poor soul. I looked at her--she was so
frightened that it was most pathetic, and the two curly-beaded children
clung to her skirts and shivered.

"I've never been alone before," she explained, and her teeth fairly
chattered with terror. "I can pay, and pay well--I've thirty thousand
francs in gold on me."

"Then, for Heaven's sake, don't let anyone know it!" I said, very
abruptly. "I don't want money, but there are others who may. Be
careful--a fortune like that may lead to your destruction. Hide it!"

She stared at me in amazement. Evidently the idea that dishonesty
existed never occurred to her. She thanked me for the advice and hoped
she had not offended me, and begged me to take pity on her.

"Did anyone see you come in here?"

She thought not.

"For if they did I fear you will have to share the common lot. I have
no reason to give you preference. The others might protest."