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melodious sound that filled the hallway.
    “’Pon rep!” she exclaimed. “And I thought we had the inn to ourselves. Had I known that we shared it with such a boisterous party, I would have found something quieter.” Her smile took the sting from her words. “Excuse me,” she continued. “Please do not let me keep you.” She made a small curtsy and walked slowly up the stairs.
    The comte stared at her retreating back as she entered Sir Nicholas’s room.
    “Papa,” he heard her say, “a very nice man is most apologetic lest his noisy arrival disturbed you. Henri will be here directly, and then we can be on our way.” The door closed.
    “You have no objections, I trust, Henri, if I look into the other rooms?”
    Henri shook his head. “No, it is as I said, Monsieur le Comte. It is just the young lady, her father, and a woman companion staying here. I beg that you don’t burst into the old lady’s room. She will not take kindly to such an intrusion; of that I can assure you.”
    The comte hesitated and looked up the stairs. The barely audible voices of two people engaged in conversation filtered down. He turned and faced Henri squarely.
    “If you have lied to me, my friend,” he snarled, “and it comes to my attention that you have been harboring this fugitive, you will pay dearly.”
    A pained expression flitted across Henri’s face. “Would I dare to misinform you, Monsieur le Comte? But please, don’t take my word. Have a look around the inn.”
    “No, you fool, I don’t want to bear with the ravings of an aging English lady. Just remember, you will suffer if I find out you have lied to me.”
    He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and Henri stood where he was until Marie joined him.
    “Mon dieu, Henri,” she cried. “What will become of us if he should ever discover the truth?” She clung to him for support. “I told you I wanted no part of Sir Nicholas’s liaison with that woman. No one interferes with the comte’s family without suffering.”
    “Now, Marie,” Henri admonished gently, “this is not the time to draw back. Sir Nicholas is a good man, and we have promised to help him. Take heart from Mlle. Rushforth’s attitude. What a magnificent drama she played! You should have seen how quickly she tamed the comte. Come, let us congratulate her.”
    When they reached Sir Nicholas’s room, they found the door locked. Before Henri could knock, they heard Roberta’s voice, raised in scolding tones.
    “She must think we are the comte,” Henri whispered admiringly. “Hear the exasperation in her voice. I begin to feel confident that Sir Nicholas will manage his escape to England after all.”
    Henri knocked on the door and identified himself. The key was turned, and Roberta peered out cautiously.
    “Has that dreadful man gone?” she whispered.
    Marie nodded. “Henri told him that your companion was likely to throw a hysterical fit if he disturbed her, so he decided against searching our inn. Oh! Mademoiselle Rushforth, how can we ever thank you enough for what you did?” She stretched up and kissed Roberta on the cheek.
    Roberta hugged the little Frenchwoman and laughed in delight. “I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in an age,” she said. She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come in,” she said.
    Sir Nicholas was still in bed. Three pillows were propping him up in a sitting position, and in his right hand was a small pistol.
    “You can put that murderous thing down,” Roberta said as Henri and Marie entered. “Your inquisitive friend has gone.”
    “But you are wrong to assume that you have nothing more to fear,” Henri cautioned. “The comte is a dangerous man and is used to having his own way. I’m afraid for you, mademoiselle. He took you in great liking.”
    But Roberta was not to be frightened. “There is nothing he can do to me,” she declared. “Why, if he tried to waylay me, it would cause a diplomatic furor. My uncle would see to that.”
    “I