SETH IS CAUTIOUS
It was doubtful whether any man, woman or child, not even excepting Richard Barrington himself, had any clear idea of Seth's character, or the exact standpoint from which he viewed life and his fellows. On the Virginian estate he had always led an isolated kind of existence, happier apparently in his own company than any other. His devotion to his mistress and her boy was known, and passed for one of his peculiarities, had occasionally indeed been cast in his teeth as a selfish device for winning favor. Barrington, as a boy, had made use of him, as a man he had brought him to France knowing that he was to be trusted, yet hardly realizing that Seth's trustworthiness was rooted in love, such a love as men do not often receive. Since they had landed in France, and danger had been as their very shadows, Richard had caught glimpses of this love, but had understood it rather in terms of comradeship than in any deeper sense, and had perhaps misinterpreted Seth's keen desire to return forthwith to Virginia. Seth, in short, was seldom able to express himself adequately, emotion scarcely ever sounded in his voice, and the expression of his face was a fixed and unchangeable one, somewhat dour and ill-tempered in aspect and reflecting nothing of the man within.
That his master had gone into imminent danger by keeping the appointment at the Chat Rouge, Seth was convinced, yet for three days he did nothing, nor did he plan anything in his mind. He had been told to wait three days, and he waited, no look of anxiety in his eyes, no suppressed agitation or desire for action apparent in his manner. He went out and came in as though these days had no particular interest for him, and ate and drank as a normal man with no care in his mind. Precisely at the end of those three days, however, he began the labor which he had fully expected to be obliged to do—the discovery of Richard Barrington's whereabouts. Seth knew that the Marquis de Lafayette had left Paris, or at least that his master had been told so, but, being disposed to take nothing for granted, it was to Lafayette's apartments that he went first.
The servant who was still there did not remember him, and was not inclined to give any information.
"I don't expect to see the Marquis though I asked for him," Seth answered. "I am Monsieur Barrington's man, and it was you no doubt who delivered your master's message to him. Monsieur Barrington has gone."
"I am glad. I know the Marquis was anxious that he should leave Paris."
"By gone I mean that I don't know where he is," said Seth, "but I don't think he has left Paris."
"Do you mean that he is arrested? I might get a message through to my master who is with the army in the north."
"I don't know that he is arrested. No, I think it would be better not to send a message until I am certain. It is possible, although not probable, that you may hear of my master; if you do will you let me know?"
"I will. You are still at the house of Monsieur Fargeau?"
"Yes, and shall remain there."
Seth next went to find Lucien Bruslart. He had no intention of being open with him. He had concocted an ambiguous message from his master, so framed as to astonish Bruslart, whether he knew where Richard Barrington was or not, and Seth hoped to read something of the truth in his face.
Citizen Bruslart's apartment was closed, and the concierge knew nothing about him. His servants had also gone.
"Ah! like rats from a sinking ship, eh, citizen?"
"Maybe. I'm no politician."
"Nor I," said Seth, "until there's my own skin to keep whole, and then I'll be politician enough to fight for it. It's not only the aristocrats who are dangerous, citizen."
"Why, that's true."
"And if there's a wine shop handy we might drink confusion to all the enemies of liberty," Seth returned.
The porter was nothing loth, and was soon talking glibly enough.
"I'm not to be deceived," he said, eying Seth curiously. "You are a man with power, and Citizen Bruslart is wanted."
"Ah, you may be no politician, but I see you are no fool," answered Seth, with a swagger unnatural to him. "Men are brought out of the provinces to work in Paris sometimes. Maybe that is why you do not know me. There has been some good work done in the provinces and the authorities begin to understand the value of the men who have done it. Now Citizen Bruslart—"
"I know only this," said the porter, confidentially. "He went out very hurriedly one morning, and has not returned. His man followed and has not returned either. I do not think Citizen Bruslart intends to come back."
"But they have not sent to arrest him," said Seth.
"Not until you came, citizen," answered the porter, with a wink to show how exceedingly knowing he was.
"You're a smart man. I might presently find use for you."
"I have done a little already, citizen. Two aristocrats have looked through the little window with my help."
"Good, very good. May you receive the reward you deserve," Seth answered, rising as he finished his wine. "I shall hardly earn my pay if I stay longer. You're of the kind I should like to reward, an excellent double-faced man, Judas-like, betraying with a kiss. These are the men who succeed to-day. I love them as I love hell and the guillotine."
Even the porter was a little afraid of such a patriot, and was rather glad to see the back of him as he swaggered away.
Bruslart's disappearance was comprehensible. The escape of mademoiselle would naturally draw suspicion upon him. Was Richard Barrington with him?
This was the first question Seth asked himself. It gave quick birth to another. What part had Raymond Latour in the scheme?
The set purpose in Seth's mind was apparent by the fact that he took the most direct route to the Rue Valette. Twice at intervals of an hour he knocked at Latour's door and received no answer, nor heard any sound within. The third time the door was opened, and Latour faced him.
"Your business, citizen."
"I have something important to tell Citizen Latour," Seth answered.
"I do not know you."
"Does Citizen Latour know all his admirers?"
"No, nor all his enemies," was the answer.
"Were I an enemy I do not think you would be afraid. As it happens I want to be a friend."
"Come in, then, and remember a deputy's time is not his own. You may be from the provinces, citizen, and therefore I do not know you," said Latour, as he closed and locked his door, and Seth noticed that he was armed and prepared to use his pistol at a moment's notice.
"From Louisiana originally, from Virginia recently with my master, Richard Barrington."
Latour remained standing by the door a moment, then moved to a chair by the table, and sat down.
"I am interested. What do you want with me?" he said.
"I want to know where my master is."
Latour regarded him fixedly. If Seth expected to read this man's thoughts in his face he was doomed to disappointment.
"Surely you come to a strange person to make such an inquiry," said Latour, slowly.
"It will save time, monsieur, if I tell you at once that I am in my master's confidence."
"Ah! Then you should be able to give me most interesting information."
"I think not, monsieur, nothing more than you know already. I am aware that you and he planned to rescue Mademoiselle St. Clair, and that she has escaped from the Abbaye Prison. I know that she is being looked for in every corner of Paris, and that my master is suspected. It was to me that Jacques Sabatier gave your message bidding my master go to the Chat Rouge tavern in the Rue Charonne."
"You must be a faithful servant for your master."
"I am more, a man who loves him."
"Even so I doubt whether such confidence is wise," said Latour.
"Wise or not, it happens to serve a useful purpose on this occasion," Seth returned. "If he did not return, my master told me to take what steps I thought fit, after waiting three days. You will know, monsieur, that I have waited three days."
"So your first idea is to apply to me. It was natural."
"You think so, without taking any precaution?"
"Precaution! I do not follow you."
"It is easy," said Seth, a sudden inspiration coming to him, perhaps because he was convinced that this man was bent on baffling inquiry. "To come here was to put myself in your power. Monsieur Barrington has trusted you, but I should be a fool to trust you without reason; indeed, I have reason to distrust you since my master is missing. You could easily have given word that he would be at the Chat Rouge at a certain hour, and the doors of a Paris prison would close on him."
"Yes, that could have been done," said Latour, "and, faithful servant though you be, I fail to see what counter stroke you could have made."
"No? It seems obvious to me. Play the life of Deputy Latour against the life of Richard Barrington. There would speedily be a yelling crowd on the stairs if I denounced you as the man who had rescued Mademoiselle St. Clair."
Seth looked for some change of expression in his companion's face, but it did not come. Fear never caught at this man's heart.
"I think there would," said Latour, "if you could make the crowd believe it."
"You can make the mob believe anything at the present moment."
"You may be right. I do not study the mob much. There is one point, however, which you overlook," said Latour, quietly. "I might take steps to prevent your telling the mob."
"That is exactly the danger against which I have taken precaution," Seth answered. "You are not the first person to whom I have applied."
Latour was fully alive to the danger which such a precaution implied. A casual word had power in it to ruin him, yet he gave no sign of being disturbed, and Seth appreciated to some extent the kind of man he had to deal with.
"You see, monsieur, there are those who would not wait three days if I did not return from my visit to you," he said.
Latour nodded as though the position were quite an ordinary one, as though he had been aware of it from the first.
"I hope your caution, which I quite understand, but which was unnecessary, is not likely to injure your master."
"I have been very careful," said Seth.
"I am glad to hear it. At present Monsieur Barrington is safe."
"Then you can take me to him."
"For the moment that is exactly what I cannot do," Latour answered. "In one sense Monsieur Barrington's danger and mine are the same, but in another way his is greater than mine, at present. The mob does not suspect me; it does suspect your master. I can add to your knowledge a little. As he went to the Chat Rouge that night he was recognized and had to run for his life. Through Jacques Sabatier, whom you know, I was instrumental in saving him, but for some little time he will have to lie very closely. Were you or I to be seen near his hiding-place it would only be to betray him."
"I only have your word for this," said Seth.
"And it is not enough?" said Latour, with a smile. "I consider myself a judge of character, and I am not surprised. There is a way out of the difficulty. Will you be satisfied if your master sends you a letter telling you to await his further instructions patiently?"
"Yes. I have means of knowing that such a letter could not be forged."
"You shall have the letter to-morrow morning. Where shall I send it?"
"I will come here for it," Seth answered.
"An excellent idea. You will be able to tell me at once whether you are satisfied," said Latour, rising and going to the door, which he threw open with a bow. "The lion's den is not so dangerous a place as you imagined."
"Monsieur, I shall think well of you until to-morrow," said Seth.
"And afterward, I hope," Latour returned.
The smile faded from Latour's face as he went back into his room, and an expression of perplexity took its place. This was a new and unexpected danger. Probably he was honest, but it was hardly likely that Barrington had told the whole truth to his servant. After a little while spent in thought and calculation, Latour went upstairs to the rooms above his own. He knocked at the door, then turned the key and entered.
Pauline Vaison showed no pleasure at the visit, but there was unmistakable relief. It was quite evident that she half expected a worse enemy.
"Have you come to release me, citizen?" she asked, doing her utmost to appear indifferent.
"You are only a prisoner for your own safety."
"You have already said so, but I cannot understand of what importance I am to the State."
"Mademoiselle, I was a little rough with you when you were first brought here," said Latour. "I believed you were a party to a plot, to defeat which you were smuggled out of the Abbaye Prison. You told me a story which, frankly, I did not believe, but from further knowledge I am inclined to alter my opinion. Your story was this, correct me if I am wrong in any detail: You went one morning to visit Citizen Bruslart, he was out and you waited for him, you have done the same before. The house was suddenly invaded and you were arrested as an aristocrat, one Mademoiselle Jeanne St. Clair. You protested, but you were not believed. Is that so?"
"I was laughed at and insulted," said Pauline.
"Citizen Bruslart is a friend of yours?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever heard that he was to marry Jeanne St. Clair?"
"Whatever he once intended, I have the best reason for knowing that he has changed his mind. Lucien Bruslart is to marry me."
Latour showed no surprise. "Have you ever seen this Jeanne St. Clair?" he asked.
"Never."
"You were not voluntarily there that day in her place, so that she might escape?"
"No. I am a patriot and hate all aristocrats. I am woman enough to hate this one particularly since Lucien once cared for her."
"When one's life is at stake, it is easy to lie if a lie will be useful, but I believe you, citizeness," said Latour. "I wish to be your friend, that kind of friend who is honest even if honesty gives pain. First, then, it is absolutely necessary that you remain here in hiding for a little while. The mob which carried you to prison knows you have escaped. You are being hunted for. So beautiful a woman cannot pass unnoticed. You would be recognized, and since you are still believed to be Mademoiselle St. Clair, I doubt not the nearest lantern would be your destination."
Pauline turned pale. "But, citizen—"
"Believe me, you are perfectly safe here," said Latour. "In a few days the people will know that they made a mistake, and you will be a heroine."
"I will stay here," she said. "You are sure the woman who brings my food and looks after these rooms will not betray me?"
"I am certain of that. She believes you are very dear to me, and she is mine body and soul. Now I come to the second point. It is known that this aristocrat is, or was, in Paris. It is certain that Lucien Bruslart knew this; it is almost certain that he has found her a safe hiding-place. That makes you angry, but there is something more. He knew that Jeanne St. Clair was supposed to have been arrested in his apartment, knew that a mistake had been made, but he has taken no steps to put that mistake right. Is it not possible, even probable, that he knows you were arrested in her place, and that it has suited his plans to remain silent?"
Pauline sprang from her chair, her eyes blazing, her little hands clinched, her whole frame vibrating with the lust for revenge.
"If I thought—"
"Citizeness, I am your friend," said Latour. "We will find out. At present, Lucien Bruslart is not to be found. For three days, ever since your escape, mark you, he has not been near his apartment."
"You shall help me," said Pauline, savagely. "I will not yet believe him false, but if he is, he shall pay for it. I should laugh to see his neck under the knife."
"You let me into a secret, citizeness, the greatness of your love."
"Great love like mine means hatred if it is scorned," she said; and then she added quickly, "But he may have got safely away from Paris."
There was in her attitude that sudden savagery which a cat shows at the prospect of being robbed of its prey.
"He has not left Paris," said Latour.
"Even if he had, I should find him," she said.
Latour left her and returned to his own rooms.
"This woman will find him, once she is let loose," he muttered. "I can almost pity Citizen Bruslart, thrice damned villain that he is. And Barrington? I must see Barrington."