the awakening of an interest that she had
never before experienced. It was not his mission which aroused it, it
was not the man himself; it was only that, coincident with his coming,
some secret chamber of her soul had been unlocked, and in it were stored
new, dreams, new thoughts, new ambitions. They were added to the old,
not given in exchange for them, but they had helped her to appreciate
the man's position when he found the star was iron instead of gold, they
had helped her to believe his tale. Her short interview with this man
had suddenly widened her view of life, the horizon of her existence had
expanded into a wider circle; this expansion remained, although the man
had deceived her. In spite of that deceit there was something in this
Richard Barrington to admire, and she was glad she had demanded that
his punishment should be administered by gentlemen, not by lackeys.
Certainly he was not a coward, and no doubt he had met his death as a
brave man should. This train of thought was repeated over and over
again, and always there came a moment when out of vacancy the man's face
seemed to turn to her and their eyes met. She had not the power to look
away. There was something he would compel her to understand, yet for a
long while she could not. Then suddenly she knew. This surely was a
vision. The spirit of the dead man had come to her. Why? Jeanne muttered
a prayer, and with the prayer came a question: had she been justified in
sending this man to his death?

When the vision finally passed from her she could not tell; whether she
had fallen asleep in her chair she could not tell; but coming to full
consciousness that she was alone in a mean room of a tavern on the Soisy
road, the question still hammered in her brain as though it would force
an answer from her. Was it only her loneliness and the shadows creeping
into the room which brought doubts crowding into her mind? This friend
of Lucien's, this Monsieur Mercier, what real guarantee had she of his
honesty? He had brought her the gold star. It seemed a sufficient
answer, but doubts are subtle and have many arguments. Why should she
believe his story rather than Barrington's? Might not Mercier have been
the thief? They were within a few miles of Paris. They had arrived at
the Lion d'Or early in the day, why had they not pressed on to Paris?
Their safety demanded patience, Mercier had said. Was this true? Was
this the real reason for the delay?

The shadows increa