hy
I opened it, afterwards."

So Jeanne's letter came into the hands of the man she had turned to in
her peril and distress.

Even as he read it, bending over the scraps of paper in the poorly
lighted wine shop, she was eagerly questioning Marie. The letter was of
such immense importance to her, so much hung upon it, that now it had
gone Jeanne began to wonder whether the best means of getting it into
the right hands had been taken, whether a surer method might not have
been thought of.

"Monsieur Barrington had not left Paris?"

"No, mademoiselle, for the man said he would deliver the letter."

"Will he, Marie, will he? Do you think he was honest?"

"Yes, oh yes, he was honest, or I should not have parted with the
letter."

"But he could have told you where Monsieur Barrington was and let you
deliver it," said Jeanne.

"He would not do that, and he had a reason, a good one," Marie answered.
"It was necessary that Monsieur Barrington's whereabouts should be kept
secret. He could not tell any one where he was, he had promised. For all
he knew I might be an enemy and the letter a trick. He would deliver it
if I left it with him."

"You could do nothing else, Marie."

"What troubles me, mademoiselle, is how the gentleman is to help you to
get away from this house," said the girl. "The master does not let
people go unless he is told to by--by powerful men, men he must obey. I
think he is as afraid of them as I am of him."

"Ah, Marie, if the letter only reaches Monsieur Barrington most of the
danger is gone," said Jeanne. "He will find a way, I know he will.
Somehow, he will help me. He is a brave man, Marie, I know, I know. He
has saved me twice already. I should have no fear at all were I certain
that he had the letter."

The girl was silent for a moment, and then said quietly--

"It must be wonderful to have a lover like that."

Perhaps Jeanne was too occupied with her own thoughts to notice the
girl's words, perhaps she considered it impossible to make Marie
understand that it is not only a lover who will do great things for a
woman; at any rate, she made no answer. It mattered little what the girl
thought.

It was difficult for Jeanne to live her days quietly, to look and behave
as though the coming Saturday had no especial meaning for her. Legrand,
when she met him, was more than usually courteous, and Jeanne was
careful to treat him as she had always done. He might be watching her,
and it would b