them. I wore his cap and cloak and passed for him."

"You carried that letter to Inspector Jules last night, Jen?" said the
soldier, all his heart in his voice.

Jen saw her father blanch, his mouth open blankly, and his lips refuse to
utter the words on them. For the first time she comprehended some danger
to him, to herself--to Val!

"Father, father," she said,--" what is it?"

Pierre shrugged his shoulders and rejoined: "Eh, the devil! Such
mistakes of women. They are fools--all." The old man put out a shaking
hand and caught his daughter's arm. His look was of mingled wonder and
despair, as he said, in a gasping whisper, "You carried that letter to
Archangel's Rise?"

"Yes," she answered, faltering now; "Sergeant Tom had said how important
it was, you remember. That it was his duty to take it to Inspector
Jules, and be back within forty-eight hours. He fell asleep. I could
not wake him. I thought, what if he were my brother--our Val. So, when
you and Pretty Pierre went to bed, I put on Val's clothes, took Sergeant
Tom's cloak and hat, carried the orders to Jules, and was back here by
six o'clock this morning."

Sergeant Tom's eyes told his tale of gratitude. He made a step towards
her; but the old man, with a strange ferocity, motioned him back, saying,

"Go away from this house. Go quick. Go now, I tell you, or by God,--
I'll--"