e
kept walking, and the dog stopped barking when he was beyond the house
it was guarding.

Hoping none of the neighbors would hear him, he knocked loudly at the
Hopkins door to wake them up.

Frank Hopkins, holding a candle in his hand, stood in the doorway in a
long nightshirt. "What the devil is it? We've got a sick man in here--"
He peered closer. "My God, Auguste! Get inside, quick."

He reached out, dragged Auguste through the door and shut it quickly
behind him.

"I thought you were out at the Hales'." They stood in Frank's
ground-floor workshop. The iron printing press towered shadowy in the
candle's glow.

"I came to see Grandpapa. And--Frank, I'm going back to my people. I
need your help."

"Come upstairs." Frank helped Auguste untie his backpack.

The stairs led to a second-floor corridor, and Frank drew Auguste into a
room where an oil lamp with a tall glass chimney burned next to a large
bed. Nicole sat there. The lamplight revealed Elysee's sharp profile
against the white of the pillow.

Nicole jumped to her feet. "Oh, Auguste! Are you all right?"

"I'm getting better. How is Grandpapa?"

"He's only been awake half the time. Gram Medill looked in on him. She
said he wrenched his hip when he fell and had bad bruises, but he hadn't
broken any bones. I've been sitting up with him. What about you--how is
your head?"

Auguste felt as if chains had fallen away from his chest at the news
that Grandpapa was not dying. Then his head started to hurt. In the
excitement of slipping past his enemies, Auguste had forgotten his pain.
Now he rubbed the spot above his right ear where Greenglove's rifle had
hit him. He felt a lump that was sore to the touch. But he was able to
smile reassuringly at Nicole.

He spoke in a low voice so as not to disturb Elysee. "I won't be able to
put my fine beaver hat on over this bump. But I won't be taking my fine
beaver hat where I'm going."

"I'll get some more chairs," Frank said. "We can talk in here. The old
gentleman is sound asleep now. Could you use a drop of brandy, Auguste?"

Auguste nodded. "That might ease the pain." He thought not only of the
pain from the rifle blow, but of the pain in his heart from having lost
Victoire despite his promise to his father. And the pain of tearing
himself away from Nancy.

He and Frank quietly removed chairs from the other upstairs rooms where
the Hopkins children were sleeping. Frank went down to the kitchen and
came back