one to the reception with Mademoiselle."

As he spoke the bell rang just above his head. He looked up at it and
laughed.

"Ah, ah!" he said, "the fanfare begins."

He drew Sebastian within and closed the door of his little room. Lisa
had already gone to answer the bell. When she opened the door three
men stepped quickly over the threshold, and one of them, thrusting her
aside, closed the door and turned the key. Desiree, in her white evening
dress, on the bottom step, just beneath the lamp that hung from the
ceiling, made them pause and look at each other. Then one of the three
came towards her, hat in hand.

"Our duty, Fraulein," he said awkwardly. "We are but obeying orders. A
mere formality. It will all be explained, no doubt, if the householder,
Antoine Sebastian, will put on his hat and come with us."

"His hat is not there, as you see," answered Desiree. "You must seek him
elsewhere."

The man shook his head with a knowing smile. "We must seek him in
this house," he said. "We will make it as easy for you as we can,
Fraulein--if you make it easy for us."

As he spoke he produced a candle from his pocket, and encouraged the
broken wick with his finger-nail.

"It will make it pleasanter for all," said Desiree cheerfully, "if you
will accept a candlestick."

The man glanced at her. He was a heavy man, with little suspicious eyes
set close together. He seemed to be concluding that she had outwitted
him--that Sebastian was not in the house.

"Where are the cellar-stairs?" he asked. "I warn you, Fraulein, it is
useless to conceal your father. We shall, of course, find him."

Desiree pointed to the door next to that giving entry to the kitchen. It
was bolted and locked. Desiree found the key for them. She not only gave
them every facility, but was anxious that they should be as quick as
possible. They did not linger in the cellar, which, though vast, was
empty; and when they returned, Desiree, who was waiting for them, led
the way upstairs.

They were rather abashed by her silence. They would have preferred
protestations and argument. Discussion always belittles. The smile
recommended by Papa Barlasch, lurking at the corner of her lips, made
them feel foolish. She was so slight and young and helpless, that a sort
of shame rendered them clumsy.

They felt more at home in the kitchen when they arrived there, and the
sight of Lisa, sturdy and defiant, reminded them of the authority upon
which Desiree had som