ivering, piteous
hands to him. But it was for a moment only. Before he could speak she
was brave as before, quiet as he had ever seen her, patient, mistress of
herself. "It is as you said," she muttered, smiling wanly, "the rats are
leaving us."

"Vermin!" he whispered. He could not trust himself to say more. His
voice shook, his eyes were full.

"They have not lost time," she continued in a low tone. She did not
cease to listen, nor did her eyes leave the staircase door. "Louis
first, and now Grio. How has it reached them so quickly, do you think?"

"Louis is hand in glove with the Syndic," he murmured.

"And Grio?"

"With Basterga."

She nodded. "What do you think they will do--first?" she whispered. And
again--it went to his heart--the woman's face, fear-drawn, showed as it
were beneath the mask with which love and faith and a noble resignation
had armed her. "Do you think they will denounce us at once?"

He shook his head in sheer inability to foresee; and then, seeing that
she continued to look anxiously for his answer, that answer which he
knew to be of no value, for minute by minute the sense of his
helplessness was weighing upon him, "It may be," he muttered. "God
knows. When Grio is gone we will talk about it."

She began, but always with a listening ear and an eye to the open door,
to remove from the table the remains of their meal. Midway in her task,
she glanced askance at the window, under the impression that some one
was looking through it; and in any case now the lamp was lit it exposed
them to the curiosity of the rampart. She was going to close the
shutters when Claude interposed, raised the heavy shutters and bolted
and barred them. He was turning from them when Grio's step was heard
descending.

Strange to say the Spaniard's first glance was at the windows, and he
looked genuinely taken aback when he saw that they were closed. "Why the
devil did you shut?" he exclaimed, in a rage; and passing Anne with a
sidelong movement, he flung a heavy bundle on the floor by the door. As
he turned to ascend again he met her eyes, and backing from her he made
with two of his fingers the ancient sign which southern people still use
to ward off the evil eye. Then, half shamefacedly, half recklessly, he
blundered upstairs again. A moment, and he came stumbling down; but this
time he was careful to keep the great bundle he bore between himself
and her eyes, until he had got the door open.

That precaution