perchance,
followed her and betrayed her. They did not come asking for her,
searching for her, but knowing that she was here. When the door was
opened they rushed in, thrusting my servant aside, asking no questions.
The reek of them is still in the room. What shall I do?"

Bruslart let his head again fall on his outstretched arms and sobs shook
him. Such grief in a man is difficult to witness and remain unmoved, yet
no expression of pity came into Barrington's face. He was a man of a
different fiber altogether; his emotions were seldom shown, and deep
though they really were, he passed for a hard man. Even in anger he was
calm, calculating, a set face masking the truth; and in such a crisis as
this, after the first staggering blow of it, his whole force was
concentrated on action. Misery for what had happened was so much energy
wasted, there was something to do and every faculty became focused upon
the best means of doing it.

Barrington went to the table and laid his hand firmly on Bruslart's
shoulder.

"This is no time for grieving over what cannot be undone; our business
is to act. Let me understand the position, for I swear to you that I am
ready to do all that a man can do. Since mademoiselle was taken in your
house you are in danger, I suppose. They will remember that you are an
aristocrat, too, and easily forget that you wear the outward signs of a
patriot."

"Mademoiselle seems to have thought of that, and let them believe that
she had rushed to my house for safety without my knowledge."

"It was like her," said Barrington. "She will be brave, no matter how
sorely she is tried. To-day, monsieur, I saw a coach surrounded by a
yelling crowd. It was a new sight to me and I stood to see it pass. It
contained an aristocrat, a woman, they said, but I could not see the
prisoner. The time corresponds; it may have been Mademoiselle St.
Clair."

"Ah! If you had only known!"

"Indeed, monsieur, the fact that the prisoner was a woman, made me
foolish enough to think of rushing into that filthy crowd single handed;
had I imagined it was mademoiselle I certainly should have done so. And
what could I have done, one man against a multitude? I should have been
killed, and mademoiselle might have been torn to pieces by the fiends
who surrounded her. They were in the mood for such work. Fortunately, a
man beside me, seeing the intention in my face, laid a restraining hand
upon me."

"Was he a friend?" Bruslart asked.