After waiting a minute or two, Paul stole back to the little group still standing in the deep shadow.
"That one will bark no more," remarked he. "Now come—there is nothing to fear. The monsieur and his lady are quite old, and there are only women servants in the place. Follow me."
And Paul led the way round the house to the back, where a little scullery or wash-house was built out into the garden, with the kitchen apparently behind it. In the wall of the scullery, a small window was open.
Paul now whispered a few words in Renard's ear. And the latter nodded and said, "Oui, parfaitement," then turned to the boys, who stood by wondering what was coming next.
For a minute or so, old Foxy looked first at one of the lads, then at the other, then back at the window, as though measuring with his eye the available space. At last, making up his mind, he leaned forward, and spoke in Phil's ear:
"Philipe, you shall go in dere, and tro' de house, and you weel for us open de big door or a weendow if de door be deeficult. Hear you?"
Phil did not answer.
Tad's scared eyes were fixed upon his friend's face, and he saw the thin cheeks blanch, but the boy's gaze, fixed upon Foxy, was clear and steadfast, and his pale lips were resolute.
"Ma foi! Why answer you not, Philipe?" said his master, after a moment's silence. "Hear you?"
"Yes, master, I hear," replied the boy, in a low, firm voice that somehow thrilled Tad to the heart.