"And another? What other?"
"We think he is Bombiste."
I can swear that wretched individual never in his black past had handled a bomb with half the effect his mere nickname produced among us there.
"Bombiste! The executioner's assistant?... From Ile de Nou?... Here?"
"They are at the gate."
"Thunder of God!... And above all, at this time!" She caught his arm. "Delay that priest! Any way and anyhow: hold him!... Confess to him, if nothing else will do—Heaven knows you need it!... And let the other through at once. Be quick!"
She banished him like a puff of smoke and we waited in drawn suspense—we four—our eyes on the archway through which this visitant must now appear.
"What can he want?" demanded Mother Carron. "That blood-stained basket robber!"
And Zelie answered her very quietly.
"I suppose he brings me my message from M. de Nou."