“Saved my sister, you did. I’m not nearly as good at keeping shop as she was, but someone has to keep it going. We are hoping there’ll be something to come back to when this mess is all over.”

A small-framed man rested his hand on Scarlet’s arm and said, “If it weren’t for you, there’d be no point now, would there? It is we who are thanking you.” He squeezed her arm for emphasis, his eyes misty with unshed tears. “Now, what do you need us to do?”

Scarlet’s heart filled with wonder and gratitude. She had witnessed good people rise to help during the worst tragedies. And here they were again. It warmed her. She had one more question. “But how did you even know I was in need?”

A cheerful mumble rolled through the group, with a few chuckles and fond glances in Abelino’s direction.

He blushed and said, “I told them.”

“Ran from home to home, he did, pounding on our doors as if the darkness were after him.”

Scarlet tousled his hair. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He held his chin up and nodded at her.

The group responded in laughter, and then, a few at a time, they quieted, eyes on Scarlet.

She swallowed, unsure yet how to proceed but grateful for a new league of helpers and, though short, the blessed gift of time.

Her thoughts turned to Matteo, and she knew her safety amongst these lovely rescuers was short-lived.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Filling her lungs with air and then slowly releasing it, Scarlet raised her hand to the door of the Bastille and gave it a sharp rap. The shop owners would be none too pleased, she knew, a note lying on the baker’s table the only evidence of her return to the prison.

But they and Abelino busied themselves with their own tasks, a plan which she prayed would free her dear Marie and ensure the safety of the others who shared her denouncement list.

But she could no longer continue in the planning, not when Matteo still remained behind the stone walls of the prison before her. Her throat tightened at the thought of him. As ill-thought-out as her current actions might appear to be, what other choice did she have? Traitor or no, Scarlet would stay in prison with him, die with him if she must—but her plan was to free him. She swallowed. Somehow. With any luck, the same measures she took to help Marie and the others would benefit Matteo as well as herself.

The hour late and the street lights dim, the answering guard squinted at her. “Eh, what do you want? Be off with you.”

“I seek an audience with Robespierre.”

“An audience with Robespierre, she says.” He turned his head to call to the man behind him. “This little slip of a thing seeks an audience with Robespierre.”