“Oh, that. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. Let us part in peace. . I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head.
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