“Yes,” she admitted thoughtfully, “I had forgotten that.”
And they walked on in silence, a long way, till they came to the Gate of the Holy Ghost.
“But you can help him to escape?” she said at length, as if following the course of her own thoughts.
“Yes,” he answered, and that was all.
They passed through the smaller streets in silence, and Desiree led the way into a narrow alley running between the street of the Holy Ghost and the Frauengasse.
“There is the wall to be climbed,” she said; but, as she spoke, the door giving exit to the alley was cautiously opened by Barlasch.
“A little oil,” he whispered, “and it was soon done.”
The yard was dark within, for there might be watchers at any of the windows above them in the pointed gables that made patterns against the star-lit sky.
“All is well,” said Barlasch; “those sons of dogs have not returned, and the patron is waiting in the kitchen, cloaked and ready for a journey. He has collected himself—the patron.”
He led the way through his own room, which was dark, save for a shaft of lamp-light coming from the kitchen. He looked back keenly at Louis d'Arragon.