“That is true,” said Agricola, with uneasiness. “What is to be done?”
“To call them at hap-hazard,” continued Dagobert, “would be to give the alarm.”
“Oh, heavens!” cried Agricola, with increasing anguish. “To have arrived here, under their windows, and yet not to know!”
“Time presses,” said Dagobert, hastily, interrupting his son; “we must run all risks.”
“But how, father?”
“I will call out loud, ‘Rose and Blanche’—in their state of despair, I am sure they do not sleep. They will be stirring at my first summons. By means of a sheet, fastened to the window, she who is on the first story will in five minutes be in our arms. As for the one on the ground floor—if her window is not grated, we can have her in a second. If it is, we shall soon loosen one of the bars.”
“But, father—this calling out aloud?”
“Will not perhaps be heard.”
“But if it is heard—all will be lost.”
“Who knows? Before they have time to call the watch, and open several doors, the children may be delivered. Once at the entrance of the boulevard, and we shall be safe.”