"But how many have you?"
"Four."
The notary was flabbergasted.
"Four children! Then you're married?"
"No," admitted Dorothy, not perceiving the good man's mistake. "But I wish to secure their safety. Fortunately Saint-Quentin is not an idiot."
"Saint-Quentin?"
"Yes, the eldest of the urchins ... an artful lad, cunning as a monkey."
Maître Delarue gave up trying to understand. Besides, nothing was of any importance to him but the prospect of being overtaken before he had passed that narrow, devilish causeway.
"Let's run! Let's run!" he said, for all that his shortness of breath compelled him to go slower every minute. "And then catch hold, mademoiselle! Here's the second envelope! There's no reason why I should carry such a dangerous paper on me; and after all it's no business of mine."
She took the envelope and put it in her purse just as they came into the court of the clock. Maître Delarue who could move only with great difficulty, uttered a cry of joy on perceiving his donkey in the act of browsing in the most peaceful fashion in the world, at some distance from the motor-cycle and the two horses.