she
said that the Froeken was with Mr. Dyceworthy--Mr. Dyceworthy would know
what to do with her!"

"_Sapristi!_" ejaculated Duprez. "This is serious!"

Britta glanced anxiously at him, and went on. "Then she tried to shut
the doors upon me and beat me--but I escaped. Outside I saw a man I knew
with his carriole, and I borrowed it of him and came back as fast as I
could--but oh! I am so afraid--my grandmother said such dreadful
things!"

"The others have taken a boat to Bosekop," said Duprez, to reassure her.
"They may be there by now."

Britta shook her head. "The tide is against them--no! we shall be there
first. But," and she looked wistfully at Pierre, "my grandmother said
Mr. Dyceworthy had sworn to ruin the Froeken. What did she mean, do you
think?"

Duprez did not answer,--he made a strange grimace and shrugged his
shoulders. Then he seized the whip and lashed the pony.

"Faster, faster, _mon chere_!" he cried to that much-astonished,
well-intentioned animal. "It is not a time to sleep, _ma foi_!" Then to
Britta--"My little one, you shall see! We shall disturb the good
clergyman at his peaceful supper--yes indeed! Be not afraid!"

And with such reassuring remarks he beguiled the rest of the way, which
to both of them seemed unusually long, though it was not much past nine
when they rattled into the little village called by courtesy a town, and
came to a halt within a few paces of the minister's residence.
Everything was very quiet--the inhabitants of the place retired to rest
early--and the one principal street was absolutely deserted. Duprez
alighted.

"Stay you here, Britta," he said, lightly kissing the hand that held the
pony's reins. "I will make an examination of the windows of the house.
Yes--before knocking at the door! You wait with patience. I will let you
know everything!"

And with a sense of pleasurable excitement in his mind, he stole softly
along on tip-toe--entered the minister's garden, fragrant with roses and
mignonette, and then, attracted by the sound of voices, went straight up
to the parlor window. The blind was down and he could see nothing, but
he heard Mr. Dyceworthy's bland persuasive tones, echoing out with a
soft sonorousness, as though he were preaching to some refractory
parishioner. He listened attentively.

"Oh strange, strange!" said Mr. Dyceworthy. "Strange that you will not
see how graciously the Lord hath delivered you into my hands! Yea,--and
no escape is possib