If anyone was to blame for Biddy's adventure, it was your wood-and-water joey--or your Chinamen--or whoever's business it may have been to see that the goats were properly penned.
Naturally, Mr Maule, when he was disturbed too, came and did the turning out for Bridget and shepherded the creatures to the fold.
Then meanwhile, she saw the black-gin sneaking in at Mr Maule's back window to steal the key; and WOULD it have been philanthropic, impulsive Biddy, if she hadn't helped in the work of rescue, and sent the two sinners, with a 'Bless you, my children!' off into the scrub?
It was like Biddy too, to go and put the key back in Mr Maule's bedroom and to scribble that ridiculous note in French so that he shouldn't go blundering to the hide-house and hurry up the pursuit.

I told Bridget how the Inspector had watched her go out of Mr Maule's room, and had grabbed the note afterwards, and shown it to you.

She had forgotten altogether about that note--supposed that, of course, it had reached its proper destination.

She couldn't remember either exactly what she had written--except that she wanted to word it so that if there should be any accident, nobody--except Mr Maule, for of course, they'd determined on the release before that--should understand to what it referred.

So she didn't mention any name--she believes she dashed off some words he had quoted to her about Love triumphant, and securing happiness and freedom by flight.