But fortune elected to save me the decision. A sharp voice came from the bank above—
“I arrest you, in the king’s name!”
We glanced up. There stood a squad of red-coats, a spruce young officer at their head.
Chapter XXV
Over Gaspereau Ridge
“Monsieur Waldron!” cried Yvonne faintly.
“You here, Mademoiselle de Lamourie!” he exclaimed, with a surprise that his courtesy could not quite conceal.
“This, monsieur,” she said, in a brave confusion, “is my friend, here for a moment because of my foolish desire to see him. I beg you”—
But he interrupted, reluctantly enough:
“It hurts me, mademoiselle, to have to say that your friend is my prisoner. If I were free to please you, he should go free.”
The case was clearly beyond mending, so I would not condescend to evasion.