ain
Clubbe had taught him the two ways of seamanship effectively enough. But
the education fell short of the necessities of this crisis. Moreover,
Barebone had in his veins blood of a race which had fallen to low estate
through Compromise and Delay.

Let those throw the first stone at him who have seen the right
way gaping before their feet with a hundred pitfalls and barriers,
apparently insurmountable, and have resolutely taken that road. For the
devious path of Compromise has this merit--that the obstacles are round
the corner.

Barebone, absorbed in thought, hardly noticed that the driver of his
carriage descended from the box and lounged toward the archway, where
the hum of traffic and the passage of many people would serve to beguile
a long wait. After a minute's delay, a driver returned and climbed to
the seat--but it was not the same driver. He wore the same coat and hat,
but a different face looked out from the sheepskin collar turned up to
the ears. There was no one in the court-yard to notice this trifling
change. Barebone was not even looking out of the window. He had never
glanced at the cabman's face, whose vehicle had happened to be lingering
at the corner of the Ruelle St. Jacob when Colville and his companion
had emerged from the high doorway of the Hotel Gemosac.

Barebone was so far obeying instructions that he was leaning back in the
carriage, his face half hidden by the collar of his coat. For it was a
cold morning in mid-winter. He hardly looked up when the handle of
the door was turned. Colville had shut this door five minutes earlier,
promising to return immediately. It was undoubtedly his hand that opened
the door. But suddenly Barebone sat up. Both doors were open.

Before he could make another movement, two men stepped quietly into
the carriage, each closing the door by which he had entered quickly and
noiselessly. One seated himself beside Barebone, the other opposite
to him, and each drew down a blind. They seemed to have rehearsed the
actions over and over again, so that there was no hitch or noise or
bungling. The whole was executed as if by clock-work, and the carriage
moved away the instant the doors were closed.

In the twilight, within the carriage, the two men grasped Loo Barebone,
each by one arm, and held him firmly against the back of the carriage.

"Quietly, mon bon monsieur; quietly, and you will come to no harm."

Barebone made no resistance, and only laughed.

"You hav