landing, Peter," the younger one said, "now that your people are at war with us?"

"That is to say, at war with your enemies, Julie. No, I don't think that there is any danger in it. Did you notice a schooner coming along the coast at ten o'clock this morning?"

"Yes," the girls answered together, "a French schooner."

"Well, she was French, but just at present she is British, and is tender to the Tartar, and I am in command of her. Now what I have come ashore for is to arrange for you to make signals to us if you want either to see me or to come on board with your mother. I know that it is hopeless to expect your father to accompany you."

"There is no hope of that," she said. "Since the king's murder he has been worse than ever. I do think that he is going out of his mind. Nothing would induce him to fly. He has armed all the servants, and declares that he will defend the château till the last."

"It is most unfortunate, Julie, for only one end can come of it; the place is not defensible for a moment. I suppose that there is no hope of persuading your mother and you to come at once."

"Not in the least, and we would not ask her," the elder girl replied. "We are de Vignerolles too, and if our father thinks it right to remain here, we shall certainly do so. We can die as hundreds of other noble ladies have done."

"Well, as long as your father is here I suppose you cannot leave, but if the 'reds' come there is no reason why you and your mother should not fly; throwing away your lives will benefit neither France nor your house. When this château is once taken, and your father a prisoner, there would be no common-sense in your hesitating about making your escape if there were an opportunity of doing so."

"No; then we would escape if we could; but once in the hands of the 'reds,' there will be little chance of that."

"Well, that would be my business. At any rate I want you to arrange signals. We can see the window of your room from the sea. I shall be cruising backwards and forwards; sometimes I may be away for two or three days, because I have to attend to my duty. At any rate I want you to hang out a red curtain when you see us come along, if you wish to see me, and to hang out a white curtain as a signal that these scoundrels are approaching the château or have taken it. If I see the white curtain I shall be pretty sure that you will already be prisoners in their hands. Then of course I shall be guided by circumstances. But my advice and my earnest prayer is, that if the 'reds' are coming, and your father still persists in his mad idea of defending the house, you and your mother should have disguises ready, and, after having hung out the signal, slip out and conceal yourselves until they have gone. Another thing: I should advise your mother at once to pack up all the family jewels, and the title-deeds, and other valuables, and that you should bury them in the shrubbery without loss of time; then we could dig them up later, and they will come in useful to you indeed should you escape to England. It would be a good thing for you to fix upon the spot where you will bury them now, so that I may be able to come for them without its being necessary for one of you to act as a guide to the place."

"I think that is a very good plan," Melanie said. "Even if we are carried away and murdered, it would be a satisfaction to us to know that our jewels—and you know that they are very valuable—have not fallen into the hands of these wretches, but that they will still be the property of one of our family."

"You didn't think, Melanie," Peter said, in a tone of pain, "that I ever dreamt of such a thing when I made the suggestion."

"Of course not," the girl said indignantly. "How could you fancy such a monstrous thing! Of course you were only thinking of us; but at the same time what I say is true, that we should all be very glad to know that these canaille have not got the de Vignerolles jewels. Now let us choose a place."

They went out into the shrubbery at the side of the house, and fixed upon a spot within forty or fifty paces of the trunk of a large tree.

"We will bury the things here."

"Do it at night, Melanie."

"Certainly; we will come down, as we have done now, when the house is all asleep. We will get a shovel during the day, and hide it in readiness. We won't forget the signals. Of course we shall not want to see you unless, which is not likely, our father consents to leave the country with us."

"I fear that is hopeless indeed, Melanie; still there is a possibility; and if I see the signal you may be sure that I shall be up here the same evening."

They had by this time returned to the window. "I must be off now," he said; "we have captured a valuable prize to-day, and I shall be anxious about her safety until we are alongside of her again. Keep a sharp look-out for us. When I do come I shall try to pass along the coast here between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, so that you will know when to look out for me. God bless you both. I wish that I could get a month's leave and stay here; then I could make pretty sure of saving you and your mother."

"Good-bye, Peter. If we never see you again we shall remember to the last how kind you were and how you did your best to save us."

He kissed them both for the first time, and as he knew, perhaps for the last. He then, as they closed the window, turned and ran hastily away, with his cheeks wet with tears. He had been gone little over two hours when he again reached the shore and hailed the boat. Two men were on watch, and the rest, who were stretched in the bottom, at once scrambled up. The grapnel was speedily hauled in and the boat rowed to shore. Peter jumped in.

"Back all," he said; "now pull bow and three, then lay out, for I want to be on board as soon as I can."

"We were not expecting you back so soon, sir," the man who was rowing the stroke oar said apologetically, "or else we should all have been on the look-out."

"No; I have been fortunate, and have not been more than half the time I expected to be."

As soon as he was on board, the anchor was run up to the bow, the sails hoisted, and the Alert was under way again. Peter went to the wheel.

"Be very careful with your steering," he said; "the course is south-east by south, a half south. They will not have shown her lights by the time we get there, so we must mind that we don't miss her."

When he judged that they were within a couple of miles of the barque, the same signal was hoisted that the latter was to have shown, and a minute later two lights appeared straight ahead of them, and they presently heard the clank of the windlass.

"Nothing happened, Mr. Harding?"

"No, sir, all has been quiet. The prisoners have tried the door once or twice, and I had to threaten to fire through it; since then they have been quiet. We made you out just before you showed your lights, and it was a relief when you did so; for although you were coming from the right direction it might have been an enemy, and I had just told the men to stand to quarters."

"Quite right; and now is your anchor up?"

"Yes, it is at the cat-head, sir."

"Well, get sail on her as quickly as you can, and then steer east by south. I will keep near you. You may as well show a light at your stern."

Ten minutes later the vessels were both on the course given, and the schooner under reduced sail following the prize. By twelve o'clock the next day they were off Toulon, with the Isles of Hyères ahead of them. When off the most southern of these they lay to. The wind was now very light, and they had during the last half-hour made but little way through the water.

"They are signalling on that island," Harding said.