"Your life, citizeness?" queried the old man, "or that of citizen-deputy
Fabrice?"

"Hush!" she broke in again, as a look of real terror now overspread her
face. Then she added under her breath: "You know?"

"I know that Mademoiselle Agnes de Lucines is fiancee to the citizen-
deputy Arnould Fabrice," rejoined the old man quietly, "and that it is
Mademoiselle Agnes de Lucines who is speaking with me now."

"You have known that all along?"

"Ever since mademoiselle first tripped past me at the angle of the Pont
Neuf dressed in winsey kirtle and wearing sabots on her feet...."

"But how?" she murmured, puzzled, not a little frightened, for his
knowledge might prove dangerous to her. She was of gentle birth, and as
such an object of suspicion to the Government of the Republic and of the
Terror; her mother was a hopeless cripple, unable to move: this together
with her love for Arnould Fabrice had kept Agnes de Lucines in France
these days, even though she was in hourly peril of arrest.

"Tell me what has happened," the old man said, unheeding her last
anxious query. "Perhaps I can help..."

"Oh! you cannot--the English milor' can and will if only we could know
where he is. I thought of him the moment I received that awful man's
letter--and then I thought of you...."