.
Perhaps some of the men who were at the barriers this morning may
remember him."

"What more probable?" said Barrington. "It may be that this man was not
such a friend to the woman as we have imagined. He may have had sinister
designs in bringing her into Paris."

The man put down his glass rather sharply. The idea evidently produced
some effect upon him.

"I cannot believe that," he said.

"I do not like to think so," Barrington returned.

For a few moments they looked squarely into each other's faces. Then the
man laid his hand upon the table, palm uppermost.

"Ah! It is certain we are kindred spirits, monsieur. We may have our own
secrets, our interests may perhaps have points of antagonism, but we are
both fearless. You are a man after my own heart. Will you take my hand?"

Barrington grasped his hand across the little table.

"Should we ever be enemies, let us remember this wine shop and this hand
clasp. The recollection may help us both. For you there is danger,
coming perhaps from the very quarter where you least expect it. I may be
useful to you then. In the Rue Valette there is a baker's shop; if you
inquire there for one, Raymond Latour, you shall find a welcome," and
before Barrington could make any answer, he passed out into the street.

The man knew him, that was evident, knew that he had helped mademoiselle
into Paris. Was he a friend or an enemy? He had warned him of danger,
and his parting words had had something of the nature of a compact in
them. What could bind this man to him in any way unless the emigre he
was interested in was Mademoiselle St. Clair? Surely that was where the
truth lay. To this man Latour she stood for something.

Barrington remained in the wine shop for some little time, carefully
examining every point of his adventure. Certainly his movements would be
watched; certainly this Raymond Latour might be useful to him. When he
went into the street presently he looked carelessly to right and left,
wondering which of the people in sight was bent on following him.

"Whatever their reward is to be they shall do something to earn it," he
murmured, smiling, and turning into a side street he did his best to
escape watchful eyes.

At the hour appointed he was at Monsieur Bruslart's door. The servant
asked him several questions before he admitted that his master was in.
Monsieur Bruslart was cautious. Was it possible that mademoiselle was
still in the house? If Barrington forgot