“And when you come to Monticelli’s first style—­” Miss Elliott’s voice rose a little, and I caught the sound of a new thrill vibrating in it—­ “you find a hundred others of his epoch doing it quite as well, not a bit of a bit less commonplace—­”

She broke off suddenly, and looking up, as I had fifty times in the last twenty minutes, I saw that a light shone from Keredec’s window.

“I dare say they are commonplace,” I remarked, rising.  “But now, if you will permit me, I’ll offer you my escort back to Quesnay.”

I went into my room, put on my cap, lit a lantern, and returned with it to the veranda.  “If you are ready?” I said.

“Oh, quite,” she answered, and we crossed the garden as far as the steps.

Mr. Percy signified his approval.

“Gunna see the little lady home, are you?” he said graciously.  “I was THINKIN’ it was about time, m’self!”

The salon door of the “Grand Suite” opened, above me, and at the sound, the youth started, springing back to see what it portended, but I ran quickly up the steps.  Keredec stood in the doorway, bare-headed and in his shirt-sleeves; in one hand he held a travelling-bag, which he immediately gave me, setting his other for a second upon my shoulder.

“Thank you, my good, good friend,” he said with an emotion in his big voice which made me glad of what I was doing.  He went back into the room, closing the door, and I descended the steps as rapidly as I had run up them.  Without pausing, I started for the rear of the courtyard, Miss Elliott accompanying me.

The sentry had watched these proceedings open-mouthed, more mystified than alarmed.  “Luk here,” he said, “I want t’ know whut this means.”

“Anything you choose to think it means,” I laughed, beginning to walk a little more rapidly.  He glanced up at the windows of the “Grande Suite,” which were again dark, and began to follow us slowly.  “What you gut in that grip?” he asked.

“You don’t think we’re carrying off Mr. Harman?”

“I reckon he’s in his room all right,” said the youth grimly; “unless he’s flew out.  But I want t’ know what you think y’re doin’?”

“Just now,” I replied, “I’m opening this door.”

This was a fact he could not question.  We emerged at the foot of a lane behind the inn; it was long and narrow, bordered by stone walls, and at the other end debouched upon a road which passed the rear of the Baudry cottage.

Miss Elliott took my arm, and we entered the lane.

Mr. Percy paused undecidedly.  “I want t’ know whut you think y’re doin’?” he repeated angrily, calling after us.

“It’s very simple,” I called in turn.  “Can’t I do an errand for a friend?  Can’t I even carry his travelling-bag for him, without going into explanations to everybody I happen to meet?  And,” I added, permitting some anxiety to be marked in my voice, “I think you may as well go back.  We’re not going far enough to need a guard.”