The drive through Paris to the entrance called the Barriére St. Denis was the most bewildering Jean had ever taken. All the way he was wondering what could have happened, how the plot had been discovered, and whether this would affect the welfare and safety of all concerned. That La Souris was at the bottom of it, somehow, he had not a doubt. But nothing could be ascertained before the carriage reached its destination. When the Baron finally alighted, he pressed Jean's hand and thanked him for his quiet, efficient service.
"It's a mystery to me!" he said in explanation. "All seemed to be going so well until nearly midnight. Then that devil of a Simon entered the guard-room with his usual infernal racket, and demanded that we have a roll-call of the guards. He turned to Cortey and snarled,—'I'm especially glad to see you here, Citizen Cortey! I wouldn't be easy without you!' Then I saw plainly that the whole thing was discovered. Ah! but for a moment I had a wild desire to blow out that surly rascal's brains! But reason told me that this would, far from mending matters, only serve to incriminate us all. So I managed to keep perfectly calm while the roll was called. Then Simon went upstairs, probably to interview Michonis, and left Cortey in charge of us. While he was gone, Cortey pretended that he heard a disturbance in the street, organised a patrol of eight (including myself), and we came out to investigate it. Thus I escaped. Cortey is a brave man and true! His patrol will number only seven when he returns! Well, it is a grief to me that it has failed but be of good courage, lad! I shall live to hatch more plots and, trust me, you shall take a part! I pray that none of you suffer for this, but I think you will not, as our tracks are well covered. I cannot stay longer! God bless you, and good-bye!" The brave man slipped away in the darkness, leaving Jean to drive wearily back to where he was to deliver the carriage to the coachman, and then plod home on foot to the Rue de Lille.
His heart was almost too heavy to care what became of him, and he hated to face the disappointment of Mère Clouet and Yvonne. Their sorrow at the failure of their hopes was all and more than he had pictured it. But after a while, when they had talked it all over and were preparing to retire for the night, Yvonne made a sign to her mother, and then turned to Jean:
"We have a surprise for you!"
"What is it?" he asked without much enthusiasm, for he was too weary and disgusted to care about lesser matters. Mère Clouet disappeared into another room for a moment, and returning, with a quick movement deposited something in his lap. Jean almost tumbled out of his chair!
"Moufflet!" he gasped. "How?—when?—where?—" The little animal fairly smothered him with caresses, and the light of happiness came back to the boy's eyes.
"Listen!" cried Yvonne. "About eleven o'clock this evening, we were sitting here, when suddenly I heard a strange scratching at the door. I thought perhaps you had returned with the royal ones and were giving us a signal, so I ran to open the door, when there jumped right into my arms this little Moufflet! He was breathless with running and covered with mud and dirt. Oh, how glad he seemed to see us! I gave him a bath and fed him well, and he has been sleeping ever since. How do you suppose he came here?"
"He must have escaped in some way from La Souris, though I can't imagine how!" replied Jean. "And, goodness knows! he's had a run, clear from the other side of Paris! It's a wonder he ever found us again! But we must be right careful of him, now. If La Souris should discover him here again, he'll swear I stole him!
"But, oh!" he thought, "if only the little fellow could have come to-night and found his pet here!"