II
"Your friends will meet you here," the guide whispered as he pointed to the door of the house in front of him. "The door is on the latch. Push it open and walk in boldly. Then gather up all your courage, for you will find yourself in the company of poor people, whose manners are somewhat rougher than those to which you have been accustomed. But though the people are uncouth, you will find them kind. Above all you will find that they will pay no heed to you. So I entreat you do not be afraid. Your friends would have arranged for a more refined place wherein to come and find you, but as you may well imagine they had no choice."
"I quite understand, sir," said Yvonne quietly, "and I am not afraid."
"Ah! that's brave!" he rejoined. "Then do as I tell you. I give you my word that inside that house you will be perfectly safe until such time as your friends are able to get to you. You may have to wait an hour, or even two; you must have patience. Find a quiet place in one of the corners of the room and sit there quietly, taking no notice of what goes on around you. You will be quite safe, and the arrival of your friends is only a question of time."
"My friends, sir?" she said earnestly, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke, "are you not one of the most devoted friends I can ever hope to have? I cannot find the words now wherewith to thank you, but...."
"I pray you do not thank me," he broke in gruffly, "and do not waste time in parleying. The open street is none too safe a place for you just now. The house is."
His hand was on the latch and he was about to push open the door, when Yvonne stopped him with a word.
"My father?" she whispered with passionate entreaty. "Will you help him too?"
"M. le duc de Kernogan is as safe as you are, my lady," he replied. "He will join you anon. I pray you have no fears for him. Your friends are caring for him in the same way as they care for you."
"Then I shall see him ... soon?"
"Very soon. And in the meanwhile," he added, "I pray you to sit quite still and to wait events ... despite anything you may see or hear. Your father's safety and your own—not to speak of that of your friends—hangs on your quiescence, your silence, your obedience."
"I will remember, sir," rejoined Yvonne quietly. "I in my turn entreat you to have no fears for me."
Even while she said this, the man pushed the door open.