Suddenly he cried, “En avant, plus avant! To thy remotest boundaries, citizen warden! We will run the little rascal to earth yet!”
The light faded from our ken; the footsteps retreated. I passed a shaking hand over my eyes—I could not believe in the reality of our escape.
At length, unable any longer to endure the silence, I caught at Carinne in the blackness.
“Little angel,” I said; “in God’s name, what didst thou do?”
She bowed her sweet face to my neck.
“Only this, Jean-Louis. I had noticed that my poor ragged skirt was much of the colour of this heap; and so I slipped it off and stuffed it into the hole.”
* * * * * * *
We dwelt an hour in our horrible retreat, from time to time cautiously lifting the trap a finger’s-breadth for air. At the end, Gusman reappeared with his torch and summoned us to our release. He looked at Carinne, as St Hildephonsus might have gazed on the Blessed Virgin.
“It was magnificent,” he said. “I saw at once. Thou hast saved me no less than thyself. That I will remember, citoyenne, when the opportunity serves.”
* * * * * * *