The Light That Lures Part 15

There was a shout of acclamation, a sudden rush to the room door. A man staggering with the drink in him, fell upon the threshold, bringing two or three companions down with him.

"Stop!" Mercier cried, suddenly sober, it seemed. "She's a peasant, my witness against an aristocrat. I'll shoot the first man who goes to her."

This was dangerous acting surely.

Jeanne had started back as the rush was made. Should she make an attempt to reach the inn door and flee into the night, or rush to her room and lock herself in? Her room, it was safer. They would fight among themselves, whether she was to be disturbed or not. Locked in her room she would at least have a moment for thought. The decision came too late. She had not seen any one reach the stairs, but even as she turned a man was beside her--touching her.

CHAPTER IX

THE MAN ON THE STAIRS

For those wishing to leave Paris in a hurry, the Lion d'Or was a dangerous place of call. The inn and its vigilant frequenters had achieved a name in these days. An orator, waxing enthusiastic on patriotism, had made mention of its doings in the Convention, and in villages remote from the capital they were talked of. The King and Queen would never have got as far as Varennes, it was said, had they been obliged to travel by the Soisy road.

For travelers going toward Paris there was less danger, aristocrats did not often make that journey. Monsieur Mercier appeared to have thought there was no danger at all, and halted for the night, but there were travelers on the road behind him who were more cautious. They made a wide detour by devious bypaths, and came at length to a lane which joined the Soisy road between the Lion d'Or and Paris. They had taken care to avoid other travelers as far as possible, and even now the sound of a horse upon the main road made them draw into the shelter of some trees and wait. Through the trees, only a few paces up the lane, they had a good view of the horseman as he came.

"Look, Seth!"

"Our swaggering friend of Tremont," was the answer. "There has been devil's work along this road perchance."

"Sabatier," murmured Barrington.

There was no doubt of it. He pa.s.sed them at no greater distance than a stone's throw, and he was a man too marked in features to be mistaken.

He went his way, unconscious of their presence, to carry his good news to the Rue Valette in Paris.

"There's something in that man's face which tells me that I shall quarrel with him some day," said Seth. "I can't help feeling that I shall live to see him a corpse."

"We must wait a little," said Barrington. "We must not run the risk of overtaking him."

It was in no way a reply to or a comment on Seth's remark, but rather the outcome of the recollection that Sabatier had said that all true patriots must needs meet with him in Paris. Naturally, Sabatier was closely a.s.sociated in Barrington's mind with his self-imposed mission to Beauvais, and his unexpected presence here on the Soisy road set him speculating once more on the whole circ.u.mstances of his adventure. He had had enough of women to last him a lifetime, he had declared to Seth, and he meant it. Seth had smiled. His companion was not the first man who had said the same thing, and yet before half the year was out had been sighing for another woman's favor. Richard Barrington might hold to his conviction longer than that, but there are many half years in a lifetime, and the indefinite variety of women gave few men the chance of escape. For the present, Seth never doubted that his master had had his lesson, and was glad. There were periods in a man's life into which a woman should not enter, either in reality or in thought; they were but drags on the turning wheels of circ.u.mstance. This was such a period, and Seth let a great load of anxiety slip from him as the distance between them and Beauvais increased. Barrington's silence as they rode did not undeceive him; his master was not a man who talked for the sake of talking, yet from the moment they had driven spurs into their horses and dashed from the wood end, Barrington had hardly ceased to speculate on his adventure. A man does not easily forget a woman who has come to him as a revelation even though she deceive him. The sight of Sabatier, therefore, did not recall Jeanne St. Clair to his mind, she had hardly been absent from his thoughts for a moment, but set him speculating in another direction.

"How far do you suppose this inn, the Lion d'Or, is along the road yonder?" he asked suddenly.

"Not a mile," was the answer.

Barrington nodded thoughtfully. Seth's opinion agreed with his own.

"Sabatier, no doubt, came from there," he said after a pause.

"Probably. We were wise to miss it. It would not have been convenient to enter Paris in his company."

There was another pause of some duration.

"Has he been out hunting, stopping aristocrats?"

It was hardly a question, rather a speculation unconsciously put into words.

Seth shrugged his shoulders.

"It does not concern us. They may fully merit the hunting and deserve whatever fate they meet with. I am not in love with the patriots I have encountered, nor do I like the aristocrats I have seen any better. For my part I would as lief sail back to Virginia and let them fight out their own quarrel. A dog of breed has no cause to interfere in a fight between curs."

"I wonder whether we have pa.s.sed mademoiselle and her escort upon the road," said Barrington.

"What's in your mind, Master Richard?" asked Seth, sharply.

"I have thought it strange that we did not overtake them."

"Better horses, or better knowledge of the country would account for that."

"Yes, but she may be at the Lion d'Or at this moment, and in the hands of men like Sabatier."

There was no need for Seth to ask questions. The burden of anxiety which had slipped from him was suddenly at his feet again and he took it up reluctantly. Barrington understood.

"I cannot go on leaving her in such hands," he said. "Think what it may mean. We know something of Sabatier."

Seth nodded, but with no encouragement. Had he known more of Jacques Sabatier, could he have seen the heap of ashes which had once been the inn at Tremont and known what was hidden beneath them, his att.i.tude would have been different.

"There may be much to excuse her for not believing in me," Barrington went on. "We know only a little of the story. We may have been the bearers of a lying message. With her knowledge of facts, every word I uttered may only have convicted me of greater villainy. We have hardly been just, Seth."

"I can find no excuse for her sending us to the wood."

"I can, Seth. Such a scoundrel as she may have thought me was not fit to live. More than her own safety was at stake."

"Well, Master Richard?"

"I am going to the Lion d'Or."

Seth moved his shoulders, it was not a shrug, but as though he would get the burden he carried into as easy a position as possible.

"We are hardly likely to meet with such good luck a second time. We escaped from the wood end, but"

"There is no trap set for us this time," Barrington said. "She may be in no need of help, in that case we ride on to Paris, and she will be none the wiser. The plan is simple. We stay here till dark. I shall go back on foot, you will wait for me here with the horses. An hour should suffice. If she is in danger I must do what I can to help her. It is impossible to say what action I shall take, but wait here for me, Seth, all night. If I do not return by the morning, ride into Paris, inquire for Monsieur de Lafayette, and tell him what has happened."

"Let me come with you, Master Richard. We could tether the horses here.

It is most unlikely they would be found."

"One man may go unnoticed where two could not," Barrington returned.

"You must remain here, Seth."

There was a point beyond which Seth never ventured to argue, not quickly reached, as a rule, for Richard valued his companion's opinion and was ready to listen, but on this occasion it came almost at once. Seth looked into his face, saw the fixed purpose in his eyes and the sudden set of the determined mouth, and said no more. They talked presently of other things, but not a word of the business in hand until it was dark, and Barrington suddenly rose from the Stump of a tree on which he was seated.

"You quite understand, Seth."

"Yes. I shall let the sun get well up before I start for Paris."