er
down. Then he climbed up again, and, supporting himself on the sill,
closed the window.

"Give me your hand," he whispered; and he led her across the roof,
feeling his way carefully to prevent tripping over a partition or
gutter. Jeanne did not speak, but followed his whispered instructions;
she made no sound when he bent down and taking her foot placed it upon a
little parapet which they had to cross, and she stood perfectly still
until he lifted her down. A few paces more and Barrington stopped. He
guided her hand to a rope.

"Give me your other hand," he whispered.

Thar, too, he guided until it grasped a rope, a second rope. Then he
took her foot and put it upon a strand of rope which gave under her
weight.

"A ladder," he whispered. "I will hold you as far as I can, then you
must go up alone. A hand will be stretched down to help you. My man Seth
is at the window above."

Barrington gave a low whistle, hardly more than a sign, which was
answered from above.

"Now," he said.

He helped her as far as possible, then held the rope ladder as steady as
he could. In a few seconds another low whistle came from above, and
Barrington went up the ladder quickly. He climbed in at the open window,
drew up the ladder, and closed the window.

"An excellent night for our purpose, Master Richard," Seth whispered.
"Here is a sword, it is well to masquerade and be as much like truculent
ruffians as possible; and two cockades, one for mademoiselle."

"We are expected, Seth?"

"Yes, any time before morning. They are prepared for us."

"Where are we going?" whispered Jeanne.

"To the lodgings of a servant of Monsieur de Lafayette," Barrington
answered. "This is an empty house which we shall leave by a window
below. The worst is over. We shall be secure in our retreat until we can
leave Paris. Lead the way, Seth."

A set of rooms opened out into another, a door enclosing them from the
passage without. Seth led the way through the rooms and opened this door
quietly. Then he stopped and drew back a little.

"What is it?" said Barrington under his breath.

"Listen!"

Jeanne's hand was still in Barrington's, and he felt her fingers
tighten. To her the house was as still as death, the blackness of it
empty; but to her companions whose ears were trained to keenness, there
was movement in the air close to them.

"How many," Barrington whispered, not asking information, but rather
confirmation of his own estimate.

"