foolhardy escapades which had set one
nation glowing with enthusiasm and another clamouring for revenge.

But it was the magnetism that emanated from him that could not be
denied; the light that now and then, swift as summer lightning, flashed
out from the depths of the blue eyes usually veiled by heavy, lazy lids,
the sudden tightening of firm lips, the setting of the square jaw, which
in a moment--but only for the space of a second--transformed the entire
face, and revealed the born leader of men.

Just now there was none of that in the debonnair, easy-going man of the
world who advanced to meet his friend. Armand went quickly up to him,
glad to grasp his hand, slightly troubled with remorse, no doubt, at the
recollection of his adventure of to-day. It almost seemed to him that
from beneath his half-closed lids Blakeney had shot a quick inquiring
glance upon him. The quick flash seemed to light up the young man's soul
from within, and to reveal it, naked, to his friend.

It was all over in a moment, and Armand thought that mayhap his
conscience had played him a trick: there was nothing apparent in him--of
this he was sure--that could possibly divulge his secret just yet.

"I am rather late, I fear," he said. "I wandered about the streets in
the late afternoon and lost my way in the dark. I hope I have not kept
you all waiting."

They all pulled chairs closely round the fire, except Blakeney, who
preferred to stand. He waited awhile until they were all comfortably
settled, and all ready to listen, then:

"It is about the Dauphin," he said abruptly without further preamble.

They understood. All of them had guessed it, almost before the summons
came that had brought them to Paris two days ago. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes
had left his young wife because of that, and Armand had demanded it as a
right to join hands in this noble work. Blakeney had not left France for
over three months now. Backwards and forwards between Paris, or Nantes,
or Orleans to the coast, where his friends would meet him to receive
those unfortunates whom one man's whole-hearted devotion had rescued
from death; backwards and forwards into the very hearts of those cities
wherein an army of sleuth-hounds were on his track, and the guillotine
was stretching out her arms to catch the foolhardy adventurer.

Now it was about the Dauphin. They all waited, breathless and eager,
the fire of a noble enthusiasm burning in their hearts. They waited in
silence,