and were served.

"Have you a toast, monsieur?"

"To the safety of that woman," said Barrington.

"I drink it. To the safety of a woman."

Barrington did not notice the slight difference in the toast; the words
were hurriedly spoken and in a low tone.

"Do you know, monsieur, that only this morning an emigre returned to
Paris disguised as a market woman?"

"What folly!" Barrington said. "Does she chance to be the friend you are
interested in?"

"My friend is an emigre, therefore I am a little sorry for this one,"
was the answer. "I hear that careful search is being made for her. Such
a search can hardly fail to be successful."

"She may have good friends."

"She has, I understand. One, at least, the man who helped her into
Paris."

"He had better have helped her to keep out of it," Barrington returned,
"and yet, she may have come with some high purpose and he has served her
cleverly. Is it dangerous to drink to his good health, monsieur? for I
like a man who is a man even though he be my enemy."

"There is no danger, I think," and the man drank. "She has another
friend, too, one Lucien Bruslart."

"I have heard of him," said Barrington, quickly, "but surely he is of
the people. I think I have heard him praised as an honest patriot."

"He is, yet he was an aristocrat."

"You speak as though you had little faith in him."

"No, no, you judge too hastily. I am of the people, yet, as you may
have gathered, not wholly with the people. I take it that such is
monsieur's position, too. Personally, I have not much faith in an
aristocrat turned patriot, that is all."

"Nor I, monsieur; still, I know nothing of this Monsieur Bruslart, so
can venture no opinion."

"You are a stranger in Paris?"

"Yes."

"Pardon, monsieur, I am not inquisitive. I only wish to prove myself
friendly. Paris is somewhat dangerous for strangers."

"Even for those who take no interest in one side or the other?" asked
Barrington.

"Most assuredly, for such men are likely to be on private business, and
private business smacks of secrecy, and those who govern dislike all
secrets except their own."

"I am not afraid. It is a habit rather than a virtue."

"I saw your fearlessness. It impressed me," the man answered, earnestly.
"I saw also that others had noted you as well. It would perhaps be wise
to remember that besides hunting for the woman who has come back to
Paris, they are hunting for the man who helped her so successfully