Almost on the point of commanding the soldier to return for the Marquise, Caron caught the girl's eye, and her glance was so significant that he thought it best to hear first what motives she had for thus disobeying him.
“Very well,” he said shortly. “You may go below, Guyot. But hold yourself in readiness lest I should have need of you.”
The soldier saluted and disappeared. Scarce was he gone when Mademoiselle came hurrying forward.
“Monsieur Caron,” she cried “Heaven is surely befriending us. The soldiers are drinking themselves out of their wits. They will be keeping a slack watch presently.”
He looked at her for a moment, fathoming the purport of what she said.
“But,” he demanded at last, “why did not the Marquise obey my summons, and accompany you?”
“She was afraid to leave the coach, Monsieur. Moreover, she agreed with me that it would not be necessary.”
“Not necessary?” he echoed. “But it is necessary. When last you were here I told you I did not intend you should return to the coach. This is my plan, Citoyenne. I shall keep Guyot waiting below while you and your mother are fortifying yourselves by supper here. Then I shall dismiss him with a recommendation that he keep a close watch upon the carriage, and the information that you will not be returning to it to-night. A half-hour later or so, when things are quiet, I shall find a way out for you by the back, after which the rest must remain in your hands. More I cannot do.”
“You can,” she cried; “you can.”
“If you will enlighten me,” said he, with the faintest touch of irony.