will understand and bring you to Latour and mademoiselle. Plans are laid
for your escape."

"Is that all, Seth?"

"And enough, surely. It comes from Sabatier, and we know something of
him. It is a trap baited too openly. You will not go, Master Richard."

"Not go! Why, this is the very kind of message I have waited for, but I
did not expect it until to-morrow."

"And I go with you."

Barrington was thoughtful for a moment.

"No. We will exercise every caution. Should escape from Paris seem
possible at once, I can send for you or tell you when and where to join
me; if I walk into a trap, you will still be at liberty to work for my
freedom."

Seth knew from past experience that all argument was useless, and
listened attentively to his master's instructions.

"If you do not see me, or hear from me within three days, you must act
as you think best, Seth. Whatever my danger I shall have absolute
confidence in you. Mademoiselle once in safety, you shall have your
desire; we will ride toward the sea and a homeward-bound ship."

Twilight was gathering over Paris when Richard Barrington left the house
of Monsieur Fargeau and went in the direction of the Rue Charonne. The
wine shops were full to overflowing; small crowds were at street
corners, filthy men and women ripe for any outrage. The names of
unpopular deputies were freely and loudly cursed; the most unlikely
revolutionists were openly accused of having sympathy with aristocrats.
Some ragged miscreant, whose only popularity rested on some recent
brutality, was declared capable of governing better than most of the
present deputies, and the mob was more out of hand than it had been for
weeks. At the call of some loud-mouthed patriot, or on the instigation
of some screaming virago, a small body of dancing, swearing patriots
would move away bent on mischief which would probably end in bloodshed.
A street, more or less tranquil the moment before, would suddenly become
a miniature battlefield, an opinion dividing patriots into factions
which began to fight savagely. Anything might happen to-night, another
prison might be stormed as the Bastille was, another tenth of August
insurrection, another horror equalling the September massacres, anything
was possible. Only a leader a little bolder than the rest was wanting,
and all attempt at law and order would be trampled to nothing in a
moment by a myriad of feet.

Barrington proceeded carefully with watchful eyes, yet bol