"Yes," he answered, and that was all.
They passed through the smaller streets in silence, and Desiree led
the way into a narrow alley running between the street of the Holy
Ghost and the Frauengasse.
"There is the wall to be climbed," she said; but, as she spoke, the
door giving exit to the alley was cautiously opened by Barlasch.
"A little oil," he whispered, "and it was soon done."
The yard was dark within, for there might be watchers at any of the
windows above them in the pointed gables that made patterns against
the star-lit sky.
"All is well," said Barlasch; "those sons of dogs have not returned,
and the patron is waiting in the kitchen, cloaked and ready for a
journey. He has collected himself--the patron."
He led the way through his own room, which was dark, save for a
shaft of lamp-light coming from the kitchen. He looked back keenly
at Louis d'Arragon.
"Salut!" he growled, scowling at his boots. "A sailor," he muttered
after a pause. "Good. She has her wits at the top of the basket--
that child."
Desiree was throwing back her hood and looking at her father with a
reassuring smile.
"I have brought Monsieur d'Arragon," she said, "to help us."
For Sebastian has not recognized the new-comer. He now bowed in his
stiff way, and began a formal apology, which D'Arragon cut short
with a quick gesture.
"It is the least I could do," he said, "in the absence of Charles.
Have you money?"
"Yes--a little.
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