Chapter VIII: Within the Walls of Quebec

To be in front of Quebec was one thing, but to be inside of it was another. Dick could only bide in patience, depending on the doings of those in authority, and on circumstance, for his hoped-for entrance into the city and meeting with Catherine de St. Valier.

There was neither any visible sign of the army from the province of New York, nor any news from it. Dick was promptly assigned to duty with a party sent to look for boats, that the army might at the chosen time cross from Point Levi, near which it camped, to the Quebec side of the river. Neither Dick nor any of his comrades found craft of any kind; instead, they got, from the _habitans_, the information that the British at Quebec had recently removed or destroyed all the boats about Point Levi. So the coming of the American army had been expected! The inference from this fact, and from the non-arrival of word from the New York army, was that Arnold's Indian messengers had betrayed his purpose to the enemy in Quebec, and time proved this conclusion true. There was naught to do but remain at Point Levi and search the riverside afar for boats.

In a short time this quest resulted in the assembling of forty birch canoes, obtained from Canadians and Indians, with forty Indians to navigate them. But now came windy, stormy weather, in which the roughness of the river made impossible a crossing in such fragile craft.

During this period of discomfort in the camp, intelligence began to come, through the inhabitants, of the state of affairs in Quebec. General Carleton, the governor, was away, up the St. Lawrence, perhaps directing movements against the army from New York, somewhere in the vicinity of Montreal. But the defences were being strengthened and the garrison reinforced, under the direction of the lieutenant-governor, Caramhe, and of the veteran Colonel Maclean, who had returned from Sorel with the Royal Highland Emigrants, three hundred Scotchmen enlisted by him at Quebec. Recruits had come also from Nova Scotia and elsewhere. Quebec had observed the colonial troops camped between woods and river, and the military and official people despised and laughed at them. The merchants and business folk disliked Governor Carleton for his affiliation exclusively with the official and military classes and the old French aristocracy, but would nevertheless stand stanchly for English rule and the defence of the city. The French seigneurs, reconciled to the treaty of 1763, had no reason to desire a change of government, and it was likely that the priesthood, the artisans, and the peasants would be neutral save when favoring the winning side.

Such reports helped to furnish camp talk, and Dick was as interested in it as any one was, but the walled town that loomed high across the wide river had for him another interest. He would stand gazing at it by the hour, wondering in what part of it she was, and what would be the manner of his first sight of her. When he saw young Burr, of Arnold's staff, set forth in a sledge, and in a priest's disguise, from a friendly monastery, at a distance from the camp, with a guide, Dick promptly guessed the mission, the bearing of word from Arnold to the New York army; and for once Dick did not envy another a task of peril, for Dick preferred now to remain near Quebec.

Four days after the army's arrival at Point Levi, there came at last a messenger from General Montgomery, whom Schuyler's illness had left in supreme command of the expedition from New York Province. His news set the camp cheering. The town of St. John's, which the British had retaken after Arnold's capture of it, had fallen to Montgomery on the 3d of November, after a siege of seven weeks. The New York general was to have proceeded thence to Montreal, capture that town, and come down the river to join Arnold. On top of these inspiriting tidings, came the joyfully exciting orders to make ready for an immediate crossing of the river.

At about ten o'clock that night, Monday, November 13th, the troops paraded noiselessly on the beach near a mill at Point Levi. Dick's heart exulted as he found himself still in the van when the riflemen, directed in the gloom by the low-spoken orders of Morgan, stepped into the canoes that awaited them at the edge of the dark river. Silently, at the word, each boat pushed off, the Indians dipped their paddles, and the men found themselves in the swift current. Dick looked over the shoulder of old Tom towards the distant frowning heights, and recalled the story of how Wolfe, traversing the same river towards those same heights, on that fateful night sixteen years before, to find death and immortal fame on the morrow, had recited some lines from Gray's "Elegy in a Country Churchyard" and said he would rather be their author than take Quebec. Dick's emotion on realizing that he was where great history had been made, mingled presently with the one image that dominated his mind whenever his eyes or thoughts were on Quebec.

But now and then an incident occurred to disturb his contemplations. The canoe behind him upset, and there was excitement, with loss of time, in rescuing its occupants, some of whom had to cross the river half submerged in the chill water, each holding to the stern of a canoe. Dick's boat, overcrowded, spilt a few of its passengers without entirely overturning, but no man was lost. The course lay between two of the enemy's war-vessels, a frigate and a sloop, yet the riflemen passed undiscovered. The transit seemed interminable, much to Dick's wonder, for from Point Levi the opposite shore had not appeared to be half as far as it was.

At last the canoe glided along the shore of Wolfe's Cove, at the base of a steep ascent a mile and a half from the town, and Dick leaped ashore after Lieutenant Simpson, on the spot where the English general had landed on that September night in '59. The little landing-place was soon thronged with the dark figures of the men from the first boats, and Dick, ere he had taken time to look around, was stealthily scurrying up the slanting path, one of a party quickly sent in different directions by Morgan to reconnoitre the town's approaches.

Clambering up the way by which Wolfe's army had ascended, he looked back and saw the dark river dotted in a long line with the boats of the crossing army. The continued silence testified either to the skill or good luck of his comrades, or to the blindness of the watches on the British vessels and on the guard-boats that patrolled the river. Reaching the top of the precipice and standing at last on the Plains of Abraham, Dick made sure that the head of the ascent was unguarded, and he thereupon, in obedience to his orders, descended back to the landing-place, and reported. More of the army had now arrived, and in an uninhabited house at the Cove a fire had been made, at which Dick went to warm himself and found old Tom.

At four o'clock in the morning, a sudden angry booming in the river proclaimed that the British had discovered the boats then crossing. But the bark was not followed by a bite, and at last the entire army was safe on land at the Cove. The men were in eager expectation of an immediate attack, which Captain Morgan openly showed himself to favor; but Colonel Arnold probably supposed from the firing that the garrison would be on the alert, and so, with guards set, the troops passed the night, as best they could, at the Cove.

On Tuesday the gaunt army marched up the precipice and stood where Wolfe's regiments had formed on the day they took Quebec from France. Far in front lay the town, behind its walls and bastions, and by them cut off upon its promontory. Old Tom knew the place from description, and pointed out, to Dick, Cape Diamond at the right, and the citadel crowning that height; at the left, close to a bastion, the open gate of St. John's, where Montcalm fell; between these two, the St. Louis Gate, the towers of churches, and the roofs of official residences. The soldiers waited, while the officers held council.

Suddenly, from the wall-encircled city, came the sound of drums beating to arms, and soon the walls became thronged with troops and citizens. At the same time the gate of St. John's was closed. Colonel Arnold thereupon marched his men towards the town and paraded them within a hundred yards of the walls, ordering them to give three cheers, which they did heartily, Dick tingling with the expectation of battle.

But the enemy stayed behind his walls, even though presently the Americans fired a few taunting volleys at him; and, after awhile, their demonstration being answered from the ramparts by a large piece of artillery, they marched back to a safe distance and encamped. That evening Colonel Arnold sent a flag, demanding surrender, but the Highlanders guarding the city gate fired on it. Then ensued more days of waiting.

The officers quartered in some now abandoned country residences and farmhouses, and many of the men were lodged in peasants' cottages and barns. During these days of inaction, riflemen were sent to the suburbs, outside the walls, to annoy the enemy, as they had annoyed him in Boston from the hills about Cambridge. While engaged in this, in the suburb of St. John's, Dick and MacAlister, by crawling away betimes on knees and elbows, narrowly escaped the capture that befell one of the Virginians who lay concealed with them in a thicket, a party of the enemy having made a sortie from the gate.

When they got back to camp, they learned that fresh news had come from Montgomery,--that Montreal had capitulated to him on the 12th, but that Governor Carleton had contrived to elude him and was supposed to have fled down the river, bound for Quebec. Orders were now given to be in readiness to march, it having been decided to retire up the river to Point aux Trembles, to await Montgomery at greater distance from the enemy. Dick's heart fell at thought of going, even for a short time and a score of miles, further from Quebec. Before he had time to brood over the matter, he was summoned to wait on Captain Hendricks, whom he found sitting with Colonel Arnold and Captain Morgan at a table in the chief room of a stone farmhouse. Hendricks returned his salute with a friendly look, Morgan with an approving one, and Arnold with a pleasant but piercing gaze and the words: "How would you like to go into Quebec, and learn the exact strength of each battery there and of each force of men in the garrison?"

When Dick grasped the full sense of this question, which he was delayed in doing by his mental notice of the present harmony between Arnold and Morgan after an open quarrel over the short allowance of flour to the riflemen, he waited a moment for breath, then answered:

"I should be delighted, sir!"

"It is necessary," Arnold went on, "that we have information more reliable than the reports we are getting from the inhabitants, for no two of these reports agree. There is a method just now by which a shrewd man may easily enter the city, without arousing suspicion there. This method requires that our man shall play a part. I am told you have ability in that direction."

Dick recalled his Boston escapes, and bowed.

"Here," said Arnold, handing Dick a sealed missive from the table, "is a letter from General Carleton, who is now somewhere up the river, to Colonel Maclean in Quebec. The messenger who carried it has fallen into our hands. It was so carelessly sealed that we were able to open and refasten it without seeming to have broken the wax. You are to personate the messenger, carry the letter to Colonel Maclean, get the information we want, and send it in a way I shall tell you of,--for you will probably be kept in the city, and any failure in your own attempt to get away might keep your information from reaching us. After that, you may escape when you best can. You understand, your report to me is not to be put to the risk that your body will doubtless undergo in getting back from the enemy."

"I understand."

"As General Carleton's message doesn't contain any description of the bearer, but merely tells Maclean to enroll him into service, you may assume what character you please. The messenger was a Tory hunter, from the province of New York, dressed much like you. So it may be well to pretend that character, wearing your own clothes. Captain Hendricks tells me you know enough of Montreal and the intervening country, from description, to answer knowingly if you should be questioned about it. Sit yonder, and read this letter from General Montgomery to me, and this copy of General Carleton's message to Colonel Maclean. They will let you know how matters were at Montreal, and with General Carleton, when the messenger left."

Dick glanced down at the papers pushed towards him, and resumed heed of Arnold's instructions, which continued while the speaker now and then jotted down a word or two on a piece of paper:

"You will leave the camp with this pass, on the side farthest from the town, so it may appear you are going to reconnoitre up the river; for your destination must of course be a secret, lest some informant of the enemy's might follow and expose you. You will go around the camp by land, and reach the city after dark. The letter you carry will get you admittance without delay. Once within the walls, obtain the information as you are best able to. Put it in writing, and take it to a woman called Mere Frappeur, who keeps a wine shop in the upper town, near the Palace Gate. She is an Irish woman, the widow of a French fish-monger, and she has a boat in which she sometimes goes fishing herself. When you meet her, if no one else is about, whistle 'Molly, my Treasure,'--do you know the tune?"

Dick, who had heard Tom fiddle it a thousand times, softly whistled the opening part. Arnold nodded, and went on:

"If you look at her in such a manner as to show that the tune is a signal, she will soon come to an understanding with you. You will ask her, in my name, to take your written message, in her boat, at night, close to the shore immediately on this side of the British stockade near the foot of Cape Diamond. There she will whistle 'Molly, my Treasure,' and will be answered with the same tune by a man whom I shall have in waiting there each night, from to-morrow. She will give him the message and afterwards report to you. When you are sure the information is safe in that man's hands, you may escape and report to me, when you find opportunity or create it. I have made some notes here, that you will fix in mind before you start; but destroy that paper and my pass, as soon as you are clear of the camp, so that you will carry no papers to Quebec other than General Carleton's letter."

Dick took the sheet handed to him, and read the words: "Strength of each battery,--number men in each force,--Mere Frappeur,--wine shop near Palace Gate,--Molly, my Treasure,--boat,--each night,--shore this side stockade near foot Cape Diamond." While the three officers discussed in low tones at one end of the table, Dick sat at the other end, and memorized every circumstance mentioned in the letters of Montgomery and Carleton. He then rose, and, being noticed by Colonel Arnold, returned those two letters, and took his leave, retaining the pass, Arnold's brief notes, and the genuine letter from Carleton to Maclean. He was followed from the room by the kindly smile of Captain Hendricks.

It was now almost nightfall. Dick returned to his quarters, in a barn loft, put from his pockets and attire whatever might betray him, and saw with satisfaction that his clothes, now mended by old Tom and replenished from the stock of a dead comrade, no longer bore striking evidence of his march through Maine. He assured himself for the thousandth time that the miniature was still in its hiding-place; made a hasty supper with his mess on the barn floor below; called MacAlister aside and told of his coming absence on reconnoitring duty; shook the old fellow's hand, and was gone.

"Guid luck, and a merry meeting in this waurld or some ither!" was old Tom's farewell.

Dick tore up his pass as soon as it had been honored at last by the outermost picket; for in his zeal to respect his commander's every wish he was determined to make so wide a detour in rounding the camp that he could not possibly come near another sentry. The night was well advanced when he strode finally between the colonial army and the frowning city. Skulking past Mount's Tavern, giving a wide berth to every farmhouse or suburban residence that might perchance shelter some American force on special duty, he stood at last between the suburb of St. Louis and that of St. John's, and hesitated as to which gate to approach. He chose that of St. John's, and, hastening up to it with an air of importance and fatigue, was challenged at some distance by a sentry on the wall. His prompt account of himself got him speedily through the wicket, and soon a guard officer was escorting him to Colonel Maclean, who was for the time quartered in a house near the bastion of La Potasse, in order to be close to the barracks and St. John's Gate.

Maclean sat in a room on a level with the street, holding vigil with some officers. Dick faced him across a table on which were a candelabra, writing materials, and a great mass of papers. The British commander, Scotchiest of the Scotch, was rugged, frowning, and sharp-speaking, but seemed to have a solid substratum of good-nature. He read Carleton's letter in silence, then scrutinized Dick with gray eyes as hard as granite, and pelted him with a succession of gruff questions, to which Dick replied with quiet readiness and a steady return of look. The questions were all on matters covered by the letter, which, Dick could easily see, the sagacious Scot did not suspect of having been opened. Dick's answers evidently convinced the colonel that the letter had not changed bearers since leaving General Carleton's hand. For the colonel's address was a little less gruff, when he presently asked:

"What is your name, my guid mon?"

"Tammas MacAlister," replied Dick, under a prompt inspiration, and added, in imitation of the Fiddler's manner of speech, "Ye maun hae kenned my fayther, and his fayther afore him, that baith piped ahint the heels of Charlie Stuart in '45, though the present generation is loyal, soul and body, to the powers that be. I oft heard them tell of the Macleans, and what a grand family they are,--begging your pardon."

"I dare say," answered the colonel, his face having lost its rigor. "Though I don't mind at the moment, I maun hae kenned your forebears in days lang syne. 'Tis strange I didn't heed your Scottish tongue sooner. Ye're the build and face of a true Caledonian, and ye'll mak' a braw recruit for the Royal Emigrants. Captain, let MacAlister mess and quarter with your company for the time being, and see that he reports to me to-morrow at ten o'clock." The officer addressed sent an attendant for a sergeant, in whose charge Dick was placed, and by whom he was soon assigned to a bunk in the adjacent barracks, his mind in a whirl of emotions, thoughts, and plans, all regarding his military mission and his intended visit to Catherine de St. Valier.

The next morning, at breakfast, Dick studied carefully each man of the mess. Pretending to a previous knowledge acquired through a seafaring uncle, he asked an old Quebec man whether there were any St. Valiers still in the city. He soon learned that Gerard and Catherine were the last of their branch of the family, that it was an impoverished branch, and that they were now living with their unmarried uncle in the latter's house in Palace Street, near the street that led from the St. John's Gate.

Dick next, observing that a certain prating corporal affected expert knowledge of the town's defences, and had a truly Scotch tenacity of assertion, lured him subtly into an argument regarding the present state of Quebec as compared with that in Wolfe's time; and thus elicited, as to the disposition of artillery, a statement so exact and full that, to be relied on, it required only to agree with some report from another source. Dick secretly assigned each section of a piece of biscuit to represent some particular post named by the corporal, and on that section he made tiny finger-nail scratches equal in number to the cannon said to be at the post. Being under orders to remain with the sergeant, he found, by using his eyes skilfully while about the barracks, that the corporal's account was correct as far as concerned certain guns in the vicinity of St. John's Gate.

During the morning there came to the barracks a barber who had customers among soldiers stationed at different parts of the town. Now that the troops remained near their posts when off duty, ready to respond in case of sudden attack, this practitioner, instead of keeping shop as usually, made the rounds to visit the customers who could not visit him. Dick was shaved by him, and, during the operation, led him to discourse upon those parts of the city to which duty called him. The observant barber incidentally let fall numerous bits of information that confirmed, if they did not augment, certain details of the knowing corporal's disclosures.

This barber and the corporal had the knack possessed by small boys and dogs, of nosing into every opening whence anything might be seen, and had come by far more and far other information than they were properly entitled to possess. Dick had begun the day with the knowledge, won in his own experience, that in every score of people there are two or three such investigating persons. Keen observation had enabled him to single out the two such from the host of men he met in the barracks, and by the closest attention he had picked out, from the chaff of their talk, the few grains that were to his purpose. It was not, therefore, mere good luck that had brought him so promptly a better approximate account of the city's heavy armament than he could have obtained in hours of suspicious loitering around the various batteries.

At ten o'clock he reported to Colonel Maclean at the latter's temporary headquarters. He had to give an account of his supposed journey from Montreal and of how he had contrived to pass the American camp. Maclean said it would be useless to send him back with a message to General Carleton, as the latter's whereabouts would doubtless remain unknown until his arrival at Quebec, which might occur at any time. He proposed, therefore, that Dick should enlist in the Royal Highland Emigrants.

Dick, who had borne in mind from the first that his task must be done ere the arrival of Carleton, as the governor would know him from the genuine messenger, replied that to serve in the Emigrants was the ambition of his life. The colonel asked Dick what soldiering he had seen. Dick replied, "Nane, afore the fighting between the Lakes and Montreal. But, considering the stock I'm of, I should tak' well to the profession, seeing that I hae done weel at most things I've put a hand to, from the rifle to the quill pen." At the last words, the colonel looked at the mass of papers on his table, as Dick had designed he should do, and said, "If ye have skill at pen waurk, there's a task of copying ye might set to, before we mak' a Royal Emigrant of ye. My secretary is more useful at the new fortifications these times, having the gift of construction in works as well as in words; yet I'm sore wishful for a copy of these letters, for my ain keeping."

Dick repressed his elation, and it was soon arranged that he should forthwith write out a copy of some correspondence that the colonel set before him. Maclean then left the office, to make his usual rounds, and Dick was left alone with an adjutant, a door-attendant, and two guards at the entrance. The adjutant sat writing at one side of the table, Dick at the opposite side, both using ink from the same receptacle.

To his disappointment, Dick found the correspondence to concern a bygone question of misappropriated supplies, and hence to be of no value as information for his commander. While he wrote, his eye ranged the table, at intervals, and took in every visible bit of writing thereon, making note of such sheets, wholly or partly in view, as contained matter arranged in columns. He acquainted himself with the exact location of three such sheets among the countless others that encumbered the table. He then waited the opportunity that would come with the adjutant's departure from the room.

But the adjutant, whose work was behind, through his having accepted more than his regular duties, continued to write. Shortly after noon, the colonel returned, with some of his staff, and had dinner in the adjoining room. Dick was sent to dine with his mess. He made short work of dinner, and hastened back, hoping he might arrive at the office table before the adjutant, who was to have dined with the colonel's staff. But Dick found the adjutant already at work, an odor of wine about him telling that he had finished his dinner. The colonel and the other officers presently went out, as they had done in the forenoon. The afternoon passed on as the forenoon had, with the difference that, outside the window, snow began to fall. Dick utilized some of the time by transcribing, on a bare sheet of paper, the statement he had recorded on his piece of biscuit, which he now set before him on the table as if intending presently to eat it. He then adroitly slipped the sheet of paper from the table to his lap and thrust it carefully beneath his jacket with his left hand while continuing to write with the other.

When the gray afternoon began to darken, Dick resolved on a desperate measure. As if his hunting-knife galled him, he took it from his belt and placed it on the table, with its point thrust under the inkstand. A few minutes later, as if to remove it out of the way of his paper, he lifted it suddenly in such manner that it overturned the inkstand, deluging one of the adjutant's hands with ink. That officer arose with an expression of disgust, darted an angry look at Dick, called the attendant to mop up the ink, and went into a closet to wash his hand.

Dick, with a pretence of rescuing the papers from the spreading pool of ink, swiftly grasped the three sheets he had singled out and placed them, each on top of a different pile, within range of his eye. The adjutant, returning to his delayed work, did not notice what rearrangement Dick had made of the papers. While the two wrote silently on, Dick scanned the farthest of the three papers. He soon saw that it was a list of provisions, and of trivial consequence. The next one of the three turned out to be a statement of arms needed to complete the equipment of a certain militia company. Dick turned his eye, with diminishing hopes, to the third and last. This is what he saw there, and copied in feverish haste, with trembling fingers:

In garrison at Quebec, November 17th.

70 Royal Fusileers.
230 Royal Emigrants.
22 Artillery, fire-workers, etc.
330 British militia.
543 Canadians.
400 Seamen.
50 Masters and men of vessels.
35 Marines.
120 Artificers.
------
1800

The copy of this return, deluged with sand in Dick's impatience to dry the ink, followed the artillery account to concealment, and Dick, casting a peculiar smile across the table at the busily writing adjutant, went on copying the colonel's correspondence.

Presently candles were lighted by the attendant. Then in came Colonel Maclean, shaking off the snow and blustering at the cold, and accompanied by two officers, one of whom said, hastening to the fireplace:

"I'll wager this is the kind of weather they've been waiting for, though, to be sure, one never knows when they may melt away in the night, as--who the devil's that?"

The colonel turned to look where the speaker did, but saw only a flying figure that darted through the door, plunged past the guards, and was gone in the falling snow and gathering gloom. The figure was Dick's, for the man who had spoken was Lieutenant Blagdon.

Dick had been minded for an instant to stay and outface him. But on the heels of that impulse had come the thought that Blagdon knew sufficient that differed from the name and nationality and other particulars Dick had given Maclean, to prove the imposture, and that the word of a well-known British officer would of course be taken against Dick's. Hence the timely bolt for the street.

He had turned naturally in the direction that led towards Palace Street, at which thoroughfare he arrived without having attracted attention, his rapid pace being that which a soldier might use in carrying a hurried order. He knew Palace Street by its width and the rich appearance of its houses. Not looking back to see whether a pursuit had yet been started, he turned leftward and hastened on, now changing his gait from a run to a rapid stride. Duty required that he should first make safe his information by finding Mere Frappeur and entrusting it to her. He asked an artisan where her wine shop was, but the artisan was French and shook his head in sign of not understanding. A short distance farther on, Dick picked out an English face among the snow-pelted passers-by, and repeated his question.

"About the fifth or sixth house in the second little street to the right," replied the Englishman, who had the look of a merchant's clerk; "the street that turns off beyond the St. Valier house,--the house with the large garden."

The St. Valier house! Dick would have to pass it, then, on his way to Mere Frappeur's wine shop! He sprang forward, barely taking time to thank his informant, and ran plump into a begowned priest, who, thrown from his balance, uttered a rapid series of words, as to which Dick did not know whether they were Latin ejaculations or French execrations. Dick was further impeded on his way by having to make room for a squad of soldiers, and to pass round a sledge that had come to a standstill where streets crossed. He now cast a look backward, from a slight eminence, and saw a half dozen troops turn into Palace Street where he had turned into it. One of them carried a lantern, held close to the snow. Dick knew what that meant,--they were tracing him by his footprints in the snow. He blamed himself now for having, in his desire to avoid collisions, kept so clear of other walkers.

At last he reached the street indicated by his informant. He readily recognized, by its location and the great garden in whose midst it was set, the St. Valier residence. Through the half-open gate in the wall, he saw a light in the two windows at one side of the wide front door; and the momentary sound of confused voices told him that a numerous assemblage was within. He turned into the little street that ran by the long side wall of the garden. Presently he passed a smaller gate, which also stood open and which led to the rear of the grounds. Just across the street from this gate, there was a crowd looking excitedly in through the open door of a narrow one-story house, in whose lighted window appeared the inscription, "C. Frappeur, Vins."

"The wine shop," thought Dick, and, as he ran across the street towards the crowd, he asked himself how he should go about transacting his business with Mere Frappeur in the presence of so many people and in the brief time before the arrival of the troops on his track. He edged into the crowd and elbowed his way towards the door, but so great was the curiosity of the people to see what was within, that he had considerable strife to enter the shop. The crowd resented his forcible passage, and jabbered noisily in French. The throng in the shop was as great as that without. Dick laboriously pushed his way to the front. "What the devil are you doing?" quoth the first English voice that Dick had heard here,--that of a burly subaltern of militia.

"I must see Mere Frappeur," cried Dick.

"See her, then," replied the subaltern, shoving Dick forward, and pointing to a bench, on which she lay,--a priest at her head, a surgeon at her feet. Mere Frappeur was dead from the accidental discharge of a militia captain's pistol, whose owner had been getting drunk in her wine shop.

It took Dick a few seconds to comprehend the truth and to consider what next to do. He turned and struggled out of the shop and through the crowd in the street. As he came finally free of contact, he glanced towards Palace Street, and saw the soldiers with the lantern, coming around the corner of the St. Valier garden. He dashed immediately through the gate in the side wall, crossed an open space between snow-covered evergreens, and bounded up a half dozen steps to the rear porch of the St. Valier mansion. From this porch a large door led into the house. Dick boldly gave four quick, loud knocks. As the lantern's light appeared at the gateway in the side wall, the door of the house gaped wide, and Dick stepped at once into a dim, spacious hallway, which led to several rooms and a staircase. While the servant closed the way behind Dick, and looked inquiringly at him, a door near the farther end of the hallway opened, admitting from a brilliant parlor a noise of merry conversation, and then a woman, who stopped in the centre of the hall, and looked at Dick with the surprise due to his sudden intrusion. It was Catherine de St. Valier.