Soon after Bart's departure, Ardie sailed with Romelle to Boston on Duncan Cargo's new flagship, the steamer Ora Nelle II, accompanied by Annie and Pierre.
Annie wrote to Philo: "The children have taken to each other as lovingly as Ardie and Bart did back when we first came up from Fredericksburg. It warms my heart. They call one another 'Romy' and 'Kathy,' and you would be startled at how much alike they look! Both are curly-haired, chubby, with bright blue eyes. At first glance, they could be twins! Even young Brad speaks of them as 'his two peas in a pod.' He is only seven, but he's already very protective of his 'little sisters.'
"I have talked with Bridget and Michael as you asked me to do. They are quite willing to make the move to Baltimore and will run the North Charles Street house for Irene. As I suspected, Irene thinks of it as a step up in the world. Ardie is so happy that everything has worked out, I don't feel guilty about him anymore.
"His concern, and mine, is with Bart. We still cannot understand why he did not take the time to say goodbye, but we have decided to forgive him because we both have the feeling that there is more to it than you have told us. You always carry a pocketful of secrets, Captain.
"Pierre and I have not changed our plans. We will travel with Ardie and the family to Baltimore on the Ora Nelle II , drop them off, and then proceed to Martinique. It is so kind of you to lend us the Ora Nelle for the whole journey. Pierre has never known anyone with your largesse. I tell him that you never give anything halfway. Our only regret is that you were unable to come with us, but you have probably made a sensible judgment by staying in Paris until you hear from Bart."
Philo waited through the winter and into spring.
Then, on a morning in May, an Oriental selling birds set up shop in the Place Dauphine. He housed his living wares in small wicker cages spread about in puddles of sunshine spilling through the chestnut trees. The birds chirped merrily.
Shortly thereafter, another street vendor sauntered off the Pont Neuf into the Place Dauphine.
In contrast to the sweet music supplied by the bird seller, this vendor came with the dissonant clanging of metal against metal. A salesman of cooking utensils, he carried a variety of iron and copper sauté pans and stock pots on a wooden rack slung across his shoulders.
A shabbily dressed character, he moved from door to door tapping lightly, almost as if he did not wish to be heard. Moving along slowly, he cast his eyes about shiftily, noting every movement in the park. Only upon reaching Philo's house did he use the brass knocker and twist the bell ringer with the conviction of someone who sought a response.
 Tending to the potted lants in the foyer, Adrienne answered the door.
The nasty-looking fellow bowed just enough for the rack of utensils to shift forward, nearly knocking him off his balance.
"I presume that you are Madame Adrienne?" he hardly more than whispered in slightly accented French.
Taken aback, she nodded.
"I have a message for Captain Duncan," he continued.
"Ah, M'sieur," Adrienne apologized with a click of her tongue, "I must tell you that the capitaine has left early for his office in the Rue Scribe."
The man showed his disappointment keenly.
"Then, Madame, I must trust you with the information meant for him," he went on, speaking quickly, "for I bring news of Doctor Bart....."
Glancing furtively over his shoulder, his gaze suddenly fell on the bird seller.
At sight of the potseller's swarthy face, the bird seller scowled, his hand going for a pocket in his jacket.
The potseller lunged toward Adrienne, shoving her roughly into the house. In the next instant, he wheeled about and set off at a run through the park, tearing frantically at the rack encumbering his shoulders.
Close behind came the bird vendor, whipping a revolver from his jacket to fire a single shot. He missed, but the potseller pitched forward and rolled over on his back just as the bird vendor reached his prostrate form.
At that moment, the potseller returned fire from a gun withdrawn from his waistband.
The bird vendor staggered backward, clutching his bloodied arm, his revolver dropping from his hand. Unable to fire again, he turned to flee through the Rue de Harlay.
The potseller got to his feet and shook off the rack, making his way quickly to Adrienne who still lay stunned in the hallway.
"Forgive me, Madame," he said as he helped her to her feet, "but I was afraid the Manchu would hurt you in his attempt to kill me. I had to push you out of the way."
"Thank you, M'sieur," she acknowledged ruefully, lightly moistening the tips of her fingers with her tongue to push back stray wisps of hair. She adjusted her twisted chignon.
"I cannot stay, Madame," he hurried on, "so allow me to relay the message for Captain Duncan. He will shortly receive an official communiqué from Peking advising him that Doctors Bart and Dash have been killed in an accident along the Siberian frontier. It is not true, Madame. They are alive and in hiding at a remote place in Outer Mongolia. Tell the captain the safest course is to do nothing until he hears directly from Doctor Bart, no matter how long that may be, perhaps a year or more. As you can see from the attack upon my person just now, there is great danger. I have been pursued by that man all the way from Russia. I thought surely this disguise would fool him!"
Adrienne's long, angular face registered deep concentration. "I shall remember every word. May I give the capitaine your name?"
The Russian raised his hands in consternation. "Nyet ! No, Madame! It is not at all possible to give you my name! Au revoir, Madame. I must go quickly before the police come. Is there a door at the rear of the house?"
"No, you will have to leave through the Place. There," she said, stepping outside and pointing to the right toward the two buildings marking the entry from the Pont Neuf, "there is the way. The police station lies in the opposite direction, toward which your assailant fled. I should not be surprised if he ran into their arms!"
The Russian had no sooner vanished from the scene than two policeman came running out of the Rue de Harlay. Adrienne quickly closed the door and held her breath, praying that no witnesses had observed the event. It was a time of day when those who worked were gone, children were in school, and housewives and maids were busy in their houses with the chores that started their day. Later in the morning, the park would have been host to nannies pushing babies in prams in search of the sun, and dogs on leashes led about for morning walks.
Luck was with her. The policemen passed her door on their return, muttering that "citizens are never around when you need them" while they angrily collected the bird cages and stock pots, "all this useless evidence," scattered about the park during the encounter between the Russian and the Manchu.
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