"Yes, a little," said Betty, modestly. "But my father helped him a great deal with money and food."
"Master Hamilton is in danger of his life," said Frances, "and I would save him. Will you help me to find him?"
After a long pause, Betty asked: "But how shall I know that you mean fair by him? I'll see him if I can, and when you return, I'll tell you where to find him if he consents."
"So you do know where he is?" asked Frances, eagerly.
Betty did not reply, so Frances continued: "I do mean him fair, Betty. I am risking everything—my good name, perhaps even life itself, in seeking him. I expected to have to prove my good intent, so I brought with me this letter which no one save myself has ever seen, nor any one other than you shall ever see. Read it, Betty. It is one Master Hamilton sent to me from France."
Betty hesitated, but as Frances insisted, she read the letter and returned it, saying:—
"You are his sweetheart?"
"Yes, yes, Betty, in all that is best and most terrible in the meaning of the word."
Betty sat thinking for a moment, then went to the window, saying, "If you will look out the window across the courtyard, you will see a flight of stone steps leading to the cellar."
"Yes, yes, I see," returned Frances.