"No. A friend."
"But not Polly! May it not be a mistake?"
"I am afraid not. The authority was good."
"You would have waited twenty years for her?" Scalding tears were in Mrs. Baron's eyes.
"I!—yes."
"Den, I don't know how to believe it."
"I am glad to have told you. It is right that you should know. But after this—I cannot talk of her—even to you."
Yet it might be that he was conscious of relief at having spoken. He did his best presently to seem more cheerful.
An hour later Colonel Baron returned; and two minutes after Lucille, who had been out, threw open the door.
"At last! At last!" she cried, joyously clapping her hands. "Ah, Madame,—good news at last! Jean is come, to tell us of Roy. Ah, the good man,—is he not good? He comes to say that Roy is escaped—Roy is safe—Roy is gone to England. Entrez! Entrez! Ah, come, Monsieur, and tell the news."