"Well, bring her," I said shortly.
She went, and quickly returned with a young lady, whose face and modest bearing were known to me, though I could not, at the moment, recall her name. This was the less remarkable as I am not prone to look much in maids' faces, leaving that to younger men; and Mademoiselle de Figeac's, though beautiful, was disfigured on this occasion by the marked distress under which she was labouring. Accustomed as I was to the visits of persons of all classes and characters who came to me daily with petitions, I should have been disposed to cut her short, but for my wife's intimation that her errand had to do with the matter which annoyed me. This, as well as a trifle of curiosity—from which none are quite free—inclined me to be patient; and I asked her what she would have with me.
"Justice, M. le Duc," she answered simply. "I have heard that you are seeking M. de Vilain, and that one of your people is lying under sentence for complicity in his escape."
"That is true, mademoiselle," I said. "If you can tell me—"
"I can tell you how he escaped, and by whose aid," she answered.
It is my custom to betray no astonishment, even when I am astonished. "Do so," I said.
"He escaped through the window," she answered firmly, "by my brother's aid."
"Your brother's?" I exclaimed, amazed at her audacity. "I do not remember him."
"He is only thirteen years old."
I could hide my astonishment no longer. "You must be mad, girl!" I said, "mad! You do not know what you are saying! The window of the room in which Vilain was confined is fifty feet from the ground, and you say that your brother, a boy of thirteen, contrived his escape?"