“I’m not afraid, Humphrey Trail, and I do trust you. You’ll take me to Lisle, won’t you? You’ll promise to find Lisle for me!” she said. He nodded and whispered:
“I’ll try!”
He moved cautiously across the room and when he reached the hall he paused, putting up his hand to warn Rosanne not to speak. He thought that he had heard a sound. As he stood there, holding Rosanne closely wrapped in the blue velvet table cover, he saw the front door open slowly, and he knew that those who had taken Lisle away had come back for Rosanne. He knew, too, that a great deal depended on her, and he spoke quietly in her ear.
“Tha has nought to fear. I know well how to take tha away but tha must not cry out, lass, not for a’ the world!” Rosanne nodded her head for answer, and Humphrey crept with her along the hall, keeping in the shadow until he came to the turn which took them down the long corridor. He began to run when he had turned the corner, and he did not stop until he reached the top of the cellar stairs. He knew that the men would find out at once that Rosanne was not in the salon and would begin to hunt for her. They might think that she had gone to the cellar to look for Lisle, knowing that he had gone there for wood, and they would follow. He was right.
It was necessary to take the steep stairs carefully, for it was very dark, and there were deep, worn places, like holes, in the stone steps. He nearly fell once, and had to stop to steady himself for a moment and to get his breath before he could go on. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he listened intently but heard no sound except the scurry of rats in the wall near them; so, lifting Rosanne to his shoulder and wrapping the table cover more closely about her, he went swiftly across the cellar and through the half-open door, out into the winter night.
He kept well in the shadow of the great house until he came to the side street, and then he started to run. As we know, he was short and fat, and Rosanne was not a very light weight. He kept up a sort of jogging trot, and, finally, feeling sure now that no one was pursuing them, he began to walk. The snow was so dense that he had little fear of being noticed by passers-by, and every now and then he stopped to rest. Once when he stopped Rosanne’s voice reached him from under the velvet mantle.
“I can walk quite well in spite of the storm, Humphrey Trail,” she said, but he answered:
“T’is wiser this way, lass. Th’art indeed a brave enough lass.”
Humphrey’s heart was sorely troubled. There was only one place that he could take Rosanne, and that was to his lodgings in the alley! He felt very helpless as they came into the rue Saint Antoine. The street seemed dreary and dingy, even through the lovely falling snow. He had come to Paris for the first holiday in all his work-a-day farmer’s life and one after another adventures had come to him, and with them the need to think and plan.
There was no time just then to think or plan, at least not until they were safe indoors. Humphrey, in spite of the storm, turned the right number of corners and reached the alley in safety. Once inside the door of his poor abode he placed Rosanne gently on her feet.