Suddenly above the din of the elements a shout sounded in the night. The Deputy raised his head, and glanced towards the woman. A moment later they heard the gate creak, and steps upon the path that led to the cottage door.
“Your husband?” inquired La Boulaye.
“No, monsieur. He has gone to Liege, and will not return until to-morrow. I do not know who it can be.”
There was alarm on her face, which La Boulaye now set himself to allay.
“At least you are well protected, Citoyenne. My men are close at hand, and we can summon them if there be the need.”
Reassured she rose, and at the same moment a knock sounded on the door. She went to open it, and from his seat by the hearth La Boulaye heard a gentle, mincing voice that was oddly familiar to him.
“Madame,” it said, “we are two poor, lost wayfarers, and we crave shelter for the night. We will pay you handsomely.”
“I am desolated that I have no room, Messieur,” she answered, with courteous firmness.
“Pardi!” interpolated another voice. “We need no room. A bundle of straw and a corner is all we seek. Of your charity, Madame, is this a night on which to leave a dog out of doors?”
A light of recollection leaped suddenly to La Boulaye's eyes, and with a sudden gasp he stooped to the hearth.