I let him into the courtyard, and called my mother to hear Pierre's tale.
"I was standing by the great gate of the hospital, as they call it," said he. "I had sold my fish to the Sisters, and was waiting for my money when the wicket suddenly opened and Lucille Sablot looked out. Ah, madame, how changed! But, as I said, she looked out, and, seeing no one, she put this little packet into any hand."
"'Quick, Pierre, if ever you cared for me,' said she. 'This for Mamselle Vevette, and make haste. Life and death are in thy steps. Tell Vevette I dared not write, but she will know what this means by the English name.' Then she drew in her head, and I heard some one scolding her within for looking out of bounds."
Breathlessly I opened the paper. There was nothing in it but a grosse mouche, what in English we call a bluebottle.
"A fly," said I. "Fly! That is what it means, maman. Lucille has sent us a warning. She knows of some danger that threatens us immediately. What shall we do?"
"Oh, if your father were but here!" said my mother, wringing her hands convulsively.
"There he comes," said I, and at that moment appeared, not my father, but Andrew, riding across the fields at break-neck speed, his horse covered with foam. He sprang to the ground, flinging his reins loose anyhow.
"Armand! My husband!" said my mother. "Where is he?"
"To the tower first, aunt, then I will tell you all. Pierre, if ever he or I did you a good turn, do me one now!" said Andrew sharply. "I do not ask you to risk yourself, but let me have your boat. The wind is fair. We must run for Jersey as soon as it is a little later. Go, and get it ready."
"My boat does not go without me, monsieur," said Pierre. "I can bring it back, and if I am out two or three days I am kept by the wind. You can never manage it alone; you do not know the channels, and I do."