They had twice been stopped by patrols, but Desmond's uniform had sufficed to pass them.
Baron Pointdexter had taken up his abode in a large house, standing in a walled garden in the lower part of the town.

When they reached it, Desmond dismounted and rung the bell.

After he had done this several times, a step was heard in the garden, and a voice asked roughly, "Who is it that rings at this hour of the morning ?" Mademoiselle Pointdexter, who had alighted as soon as the carriage stopped, called out, "It is I, Eustace." There was an exclamation of surprise and joy, bolts were at once drawn, and the gate thrown open, and an old servitor threw himself on his knees as the girl entered, and, taking the hand she held out to him, put it to his lips.
"Ah, mademoiselle," he said, while the tears streamed down his cheeks, "what a joyful morning it is! We have all suffered, and monsieur le baron most of all.

He has spoken but a few words, since you left, but walks up and down the garden as one distraught, muttering to himself, and sometimes even drawing his sword and thrusting it at an invisible enemy.

He is up, mademoiselle.