I reached home without adventure.  The vehicle drew up just outside my lodgings, and I was about to alight when my eyes were attracted by something white which lay on the front seat of the carriage, conspicuously placed so that the light from the inside lanthorn fell full upon it.  I had been too tired and too dazed, I suppose, to notice the thing before, but now, on closer inspection, I saw that it was a note, and that it was addressed to me:  “M.  Aristide Barrot, Interpreter,” and below my name were the words:  “Very urgent.”

I took the note feeling a thrill of excitement running through my veins at its touch.  I alighted, and the vehicle immediately disappeared into the night.  I had only caught one glimpse of the horses, and none at all of the coachman.  Then I went straight into my room, and by the light of the table lamp I unfolded and read the mysterious note.  It bore no signature, but at the first words I knew that the writer was none other than the lovely young creature who had appeared to me like an angel of innocence in the midst of that den of thieves.

* * * * *

“Monsieur,” she had written in a hand which had clearly been trembling with agitation, “you are good, you are kind; I entreat you to be merciful.  My dear mother, whom I worship, is sick with terror and misery.  She will die if she remains any longer under the sway of that inhuman monster who, alas! is my own brother.  And if I lose her I shall die, too, for I should no longer have anyone to stand between me and his cruelties.

“My dear mother has some relations living at St. Claude.  She would have gone to them before now, but my brother keeps us both virtual prisoners here, and we have no means of arranging for such a perilous journey for ourselves.  Now, by the most extraordinary stroke of good fortune, my brother will be absent all day to-morrow and the following night.  My dear mother and I feel that God Himself is showing us the way to our release.

“Will you, can you help us, dear M. Barrot?  Mother and I will be at Gex to-morrow at one hour after sundown.  We will lie perdu in the little Taverne du Roi de Rome, where, if you come to us, you will find us waiting anxiously.  If you can do nothing to help us, we must return broken-hearted to our hated prison; but something in my heart tells me that you can help us.  All that we want is a vehicle of some sort and the escort of a brave man like yourself as far as St. Claude, where our relatives will thank you on their knees for your kindness and generosity to two helpless, miserable, unprotected women, and I will kiss your hands in unbounded gratitude and devotion.”

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