"Well," exclaimed Haillon, impatiently grinding the butt of his gun on the pavement, "how long does it take to find out about an aristocrat?"
"She was going to summon a doctor to attend a sick father," said St. Hilaire without looking at Haillon.
"Bah," growled the latter.
"Right behind us," continued St. Hilaire, in a very low voice, and looking into the countess' face earnestly to enforce his words, "is a passageway that leads to the Rue d'Arcis."
Madame d'Arlincourt nodded. She understood.
"When I next begin to talk to these men, you must go through that passage to the house opposite. It is number seven. You will not be able to see the number, but it is directly opposite; you cannot mistake it. Knock seven times in quick succession. Some one will inquire from within, 'Who knocks?' You must reply 'From Raphael.' Do you understand?"
"Yes," said the countess.
"You are taking up too much of our time, citizen," interrupted Haillon, "let me take a hand at questioning."
"Be silent, Haillon;" said St. Hilaire in a tone of quick authority.
"The door will be opened without further question. Once inside you must tell them that you were sent by Raphael, and that they are to keep you until it is safe for you to return to your own domicile. Now remember!—as soon as I enter into conversation with these men."