"Mon Dieu!" said I, sitting on the bed—"but your sister can't sleep in the passage, can she?"
"Certainly, she's quite used to that sort of thing. It's safer also, in case the police come."
"I know all the police," said Athéné, "even when they are not in uniform; I can recognise them by their boots."
"And we are always on the look-out for them," added Hyppolité. "If the police come to search the house you will have to get into the cistern."
"Where the forger threw his tools," explained Athéné.
Coffee and cigarettes were produced, and ointment for our lacerated hands. We were made to feel quite at home. . . . The family stayed and talked to us until dawn broke. They thoroughly appreciated the story of the escape, and clapped their hands with glee at the idea of the Turks' amazement when they discovered that we had vanished, leaving no trace behind us.
"They will never find the rope," said Thémistoclé, "because the shopkeeper over whose shop it is will certainly cut it down and hide it, for fear of being asked questions."
"And now we must thank the Blessed Saints for your escape," said an old lady who had not previously spoken.
She went to a glass cupboard, opened it, and lit two candles. A scent of rose-leaves and incense came from the shrine, which contained oranges and ikons and Easter eggs and a large family Bible.
For a moment or two we all stood silent.