o look
into them. Anger blazed in them, anger was in every line of his set
face. She had seen this man before, knew he was Raymond Latour, knew his
power, and she was afraid.

"I am Pauline Vaison," she said in a low tone.

CHAPTER XVI

THE TAVERN AT THE CHAT ROUGE

Terribly leaden-footed had this week of waiting been to Richard
Barrington. He had not seen Lucien Bruslart, although each afternoon he
had passed the wine shop with the sign of the three barrels. He had
nothing to occupy him, and for most of the day he remained within doors.
He shrank from witnessing the squalor and savagery which might at any
moment be met in the streets; he could not bear the sight or the sound
of those slowly rolling tumbrils carrying their wretched victims to the
guillotine, and he would not go in the direction of the Place de la
Revolution even when there was no yelling crowd there, when the scaffold
was untenanted and the great knife still. Another consideration kept him
indoors. His constant presence in the streets might serve to make his
face and figure familiar, and this would be a disadvantage if he were
presently to help Mademoiselle St. Clair to escape from Paris.

In the house of Monsieur Fargeau life ran a smooth and even course, if
not entirely ignorant of the revolution, at least having no personal
concern with it. The shouting mob did not penetrate into this quiet
corner of the city. Monsieur Fargeau knew nothing of politics, and was
ignorant of the very names of many of those members of the Convention
who were filling distant parts of Europe with horror and loathing. Some
people had lost their lives, he was aware of that; possibly they had
only met with their deserts, he did not know. The times were hard, but
he was prepared for a rainy day, and could afford to wait until business
improved again. To do the Marquis de Lafayette a service he had let
rooms to two Americans, who paid him well, who said pleasant things to
his wife and children when they met them on the stairs, and beyond this
he thought or cared little about them. He knew nothing of their reason
for being in Paris, and had no idea that he was harboring dangerous
characters. Both Barrington and Seth had been careful to leave and
return to their lodgings cautiously, and by a roundabout route, and were
convinced that if they were watched they had succeeded in baffling the
spies in discovering their hiding place. Barrington was therefore rather
startl