The boy hurried off.
"Saint-Quentin," Dorothy continued. "Have the detectives seen me?"
"No."
"You must give every one to understand that I left the Manor some time ago and that you're to meet me at the market-town, Roche-sur-Yon. I don't want to be mixed up with the inquiry. They'll examine me; and it will be a sheer waste of time."
"But Monsieur Davernoie?"
"As soon as you get the chance, tell him. Tell him that I've gone for reasons which I will explain later, and that I beg him to keep silent about everything that concerns us. Besides, he is wounded, and his mind is confused, and nobody will think about me. They're going to hunt through the hillocks, I expect, to get hold of d'Estreicher's confederates. They mustn't see me. Cover me with branches."
"That's all right," she said when he had done so, "As soon as it is getting dark, come, all four of you, and carry me down to the caravan; and we'll start as soon as it's daylight. Perhaps I shall be out of sorts for a few days. Rather too much overwork and excitement—nothing for you to worry about. Do you understand, my boy?"
"Yes, Dorothy."
As she had foreseen, the two detectives, having shut up d'Estreicher at the Manor, passed at no great distance from her, guided by one of the farm-servants. She presently heard them calling out and guessed that they had discovered the entrance to the caves of the Labyrinth, down which d'Estreicher's confederates had fled.
"Pursuit is useless," murmured Dorothy. "The quarry has too long a start."