"The paper, captain," she cried, "are they coming for the paper? For, if
they are, they shall not have it. You--"

My father looked at her sharply, almost suspiciously.

"How are you here?" he demanded quickly, "Did not Brutus lock your door?"

"The lock was very rusty," she answered.

"Indeed?" said my father, "And how long ago did you find it out?"

"Only a minute back," she said, and again he glanced at her narrowly,
and finally shrugged his shoulders. As I look back on it, it was his
first mistake.

"Then I fear you have not seen much of the house," he said suavely, but
she disregarded his remark.

"Pray do not be alarmed, my lady," "At almost any time I am glad to see
you, but just at present--" he raised his voice to drown the din of the
knocker--"just at present your appearance, I fear, is a trifle
indiscreet. It is not the paper they wish, Mademoiselle. It is merely
myself, your humble servant, they require. But pray calm yourself and
rest assured they shall get neither. Let in our callers, Brutus."

He took her hand and bowed over it very low, and looked for an instant
into her eyes, with a faint hint of curiosity.

"And you?" she asked. "You have it still?"