"I hope we shall start together," said Richard, holding out his hand.
"Good fortune," said Seth, as their hands were grasped for a moment.
Then Richard pa.s.sed into the lane and turned along the Soisy road in the direction of the Lion d"Or.
The inn and its outbuildings stood back from the road, and isolated. The village was beyond it, hidden by a turn in the road. Two or three wooden tables stood on the s.p.a.ce before the door, used no doubt on balmy summer evenings, but deserted to-night. The sound of laughter and much talking came to Richard as he approached, and he stood for a moment under a tree by the roadside to look at the front of the building, at the windows through which the sound of merrymaking came, and at the windows above which showed no light. Crossing the road, he found a gap in the hedge and went round to look at the back of the house. There was a garden, mostly of vegetables and not ill kept, a low, wooden fence, broken down in one place, enclosing it from the field in which he stood. A dim light came from two windows on the ground floor, but above every window was dark. If Mademoiselle St. Clair were there she must be without lamp or candle, or the windows must be closely shuttered. He took careful note of the back of the house and how the road lay in regard to it, for there was no knowing what difficulties the next few minutes might bring. Then he went back to the front of the house, and approaching quietly, looked in at the window across which the curtains were only partially drawn. He was prepared for any eventuality, and his hand in the pocket of his coat held his pistol, but he was startled at what he saw. Facing him sat Monsieur le Comte and his friend. These men had probably robbed him of the gold star, Seth was of the same opinion; certainly they had done their utmost to prevent his finding mademoiselle at the ball. Were they aristocrats? If so, they were playing with fire among this crowd of savage-looking patriots.
Monsieur le Comte was drunk, or feigning to be, and Barrington saw him take up the wine bottle and smash it on the table, and heard him declare that the only way to get the emigres into their power was to lie to them and cheat them. He stayed to hear no more. Surely this man"s presence there, and his words, meant that he had lied to some purpose, meant that Mademoiselle St. Clair was in the inn. Her danger was great, for there was no doubt about the savage temper of the crowd in that room.
The door stood open, there was no one in the entrance, and Barrington slipped in.
"The woman upstairs! The peasant woman!" These were the words that greeted him. Horrible in their suggestion, they were a guide to him. He was upon the dark staircase when the rush from the room came, and the man fell upon the threshold. He drew back to the wall lest he should be seen, and touched some one. In a moment, for his own safety, he had grasped the arm beside him and then, as he realized that it was a woman he held, put his hand quickly over her mouth to prevent her crying out.
He could not see her clearly, close as she was to him, but touch brought conviction.
"For your life, silence!" he whispered.
Mercier"s threat to shoot the first man who attempted to go to the woman upstairs had its effect, no one was inclined to run the risk, yet several remained about the doorway instead of going back to their wine.
Barrington quickly calculated all the chances. To leave by the inn door without being seen was impossible; another way must be found, and there was not a moment to lose. Directly the wine fumes overpowered the man who, for an instant, dominated the situation, these bloodthirsty wretches would certainly rush upon their prey. The intention was visible in their sullen faces.
"You know me, will you trust me?" he whispered. He still held her arm, his hand was still over her mouth.
She nodded her head.
"Go up, quietly," he said, releasing her.
Jeanne knew him. Few moments had pa.s.sed since her arm had been gripped in the darkness, but she had lived a long time in them, and exactly when she realized who it was who touched her she did not know. It never occurred to her to think it strange that he should be alive. She did not ask herself whether she really trusted him. At least, he was different from those men below, and she obeyed him.
"Is there another staircase?" he asked when they were in the pa.s.sage above.
"I do not know."
"There must be," he said, as though their dire necessity would compel one. "Walk close behind me and tread lightly."
Comparative silence had reigned, only the uneasy shuffling of feet and the c.h.i.n.k of a gla.s.s, now the noise of voices broke out again, angry voices, raised in argument and quarrel. Each moment Barrington expected a rush up the stairs. If it came, what could he do?
He remembered the position of the windows through which a dim light had shown in the rear of the house. The kitchen was probably there. If another staircase existed it would be in the direction of the kitchen.
He turned along a pa.s.sage to the left, his hand stretched out before him, lest he should stumble in the darkness. The noise below was deadened here.
"Might we not climb from a window?" Jeanne whispered.
He had thought of it. He tried to remember whether a tree or roof of an outbuilding against any of the windows made this means of escape possible. He felt sure such a way did not exist. He might have dropped from one of the windows in safety, but the woman could not do so. He had not answered her question when there was a new sound close beside them, a heavy tread.
"Stand close to the wall," he said. "Keep near, and whatever happens do not speak."
Some one was coming up stairs which were close to them, and in the dark.
Barrington strained his ears to locate the position. If they were not seen escape was possible.
A thin, straight line of light was suddenly drawn perpendicularly, just in front of him, and then a door was opened. A man, one of the inn servants, carrying a candle, stepped into the pa.s.sage. The light fell directly on the figures standing by the wall. The man was startled. So sudden an encounter was unusual, and in these days the unusual was dangerous. Only a fraction of time was necessary to bring him to this conclusion, but in it, Barrington had also reached a conclusion equally definite. As the man opened his mouth to call out, his throat was seized in a viselike grip and only the ghost of a sound gurgled and was lost.
The candle fell to the floor. The noise of its fall seemed horribly loud.
"Stamp out the light," Barrington said in a low tone.
Jeanne did so, obeying him promptly.
The man was a child in Barrington"s hands. His efforts to unloose the gripping fingers at his throat were feeble and futile. He was borne backward and downward to the floor, a knee was upon his chest, bending and cracking his bones, and then came oblivion.
"Come," said Barrington.
She was close behind him and they went down the narrow stairs which had a bend in them. There was a door at the bottom which was open, a light beyond.
Pistol in hand, Barrington stepped quickly into the kitchen. It was empty. There was a door between the windows, and the next moment they were in the garden. He took the woman"s hand, guiding her to the broken place in the wooden fence. There he paused, looking back and listening.
There was no sound of an alarm yet, no cries to suggest that the fiends had rushed up the stairs to wreak their savagery on a defenseless woman.
For a moment Barrington contemplated taking a horse from the stable, but he dared not run the risk of the delay. Chance must bring them the means of entering Paris in safety.
"We must run, mademoiselle. My servant is waiting for me."
She gathered her skirts about her.
"Give me your hand again--it will help you."
So they ran across the fields, making for the road and the clump of trees in the lane where Seth waited.
CHAPTER X
THE SAFETY OF MADEMOISELLE
The two men had sat for a long while facing each other, one doing all the talking, the other listening eagerly.
"Early this morning we turned the horses loose in a field and reached the barrier on foot," said Barrington. "We came in with the crowd, two abusive men quarreling with a market woman over some petty transaction regarding vegetables. I a.s.sure you, Monsieur de Lafayette, I never used such coa.r.s.e language to a woman before in all my life. She played her part excellently. They laughed at us at the barrier, and we entered still quarreling. The rest was easy."
So he finished his long story, which had begun with his personal affairs in Virginia, and ended with the account of mademoiselle"s flight from the Lion d"Or on the Soisy road.
Lafayette had listened without interrupting the narrative, now he rose slowly, and, crossing the room, looked down into the street.
"Is it possible that, in spite of your protestations, you are not pleased to see me?" Barrington asked, after a pause.
"Yes and no, an enigmatical answer, but the only true one I can give,"
said Lafayette, turning to his companion and putting both hands upon his shoulders. "The face is still the face of the boy I knew, and of whom I have thought often; there is exactly that courage and daring in you which I then perceived would one day a.s.sert themselves. Richard Barrington has grown into just the kind of man I expected, and on that account I am delighted to see him. But there is no place for him in France, there is no work for an honorable volunteer; besides which, he has already managed to slip into a very maelstrom of danger, and for that reason I am sorry he has come."
"I find the Marquis de Lafayette much altered when I hear him speak in such a tone of despair."
Lafayette smiled, and gently pushed Richard into a chair.
"That I do not despair easily, as a rule, may convince you that I am not troubled without reason. The country is in the hands of fanatics, there is no foreseeing what the end may be. On every side of us are enemies, but we are our own worse foes. We are split into factions, fighting and disputing with one another; the very worst of us are gaining the predominant power, and those who have honestly striven to bring good out of evil have been driven to the wall and are struggling for their lives."
"Yet you say my sword is useless."