He asked a hurried question or two and then edged away.

Soon he made a stand under the trees, and, viewing the scene, nodded his head and said: "The abbe was right." It was Perrot.

A few hours afterwards the crowd had gone and the governor's garden was empty.

Perrot still kept his watch under the tree, though why he could hardly say--his errand was useless now.

But he had the gift of waiting.