Part 40 (1/2)

”Vive la Revolution,” he murmured; ”it makes me rich. He is careful, this citizen, and does not trust me to fulfill a bargain. To-morrow I shall have the papers; it will be early, and then--then the money. He cannot escape without my help, he cannot escape me.”

He put down his pen and rubbed his hands together. He was excited to-night.

”I am sorry for mademoiselle,” he said as he went to bed, but his sorrow did not keep him awake, his conscience was too dead to trouble him. He slept as a just man sleeps, soundly.

Jeanne did not sleep. She sat in the dark, waiting, listening. Doors were shut in distant corridors, the house gradually grew quiet. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, a little excited, but not impatient.

How long she had waited, how long she would have to wait, she did not know, but she had perfect faith, and did not become restless. A moment was coming when she must act, and she was prepared. Just that moment mattered and nothing else; all her thoughts were focused upon it.

It came suddenly, a scratching on the door, so light as to be inaudible except to listening ears. Jeanne rose at once, silently opened the door, which purposely she had not latched, and stepped into the pa.s.sage. A hand touched her on the arm and then slid down her arm until it clasped her fingers. She was pulled forward gently.

”The stairs--carefully,” whispered a voice.

Not a sound was in the house, nor in the world it seemed, as they went down the stairs and along the pa.s.sage to the window which overlooked the roof of the outbuildings. The night was dark, overcast, not a star. This was a window seldom opened. Last night Barrington had examined it, had eased the latch; now there was hardly a sound as he opened it, only the cold night air coming in.

”I go first,” said Barrington; and he climbed out and dropped silently on to the roof some five feet below. Jeanne followed, and he lifted her down. Then he climbed up again, and, supporting himself on the sill, closed the window.

”Give me your hand,” he whispered; and he led her across the roof, feeling his way carefully to prevent tripping over a part.i.tion or gutter. Jeanne did not speak, but followed his whispered instructions; she made no sound when he bent down and taking her foot placed it upon a little parapet which they had to cross, and she stood perfectly still until he lifted her down. A few paces more and Barrington stopped. He guided her hand to a rope.

”Give me your other hand,” he whispered.

Thar, too, he guided until it grasped a rope, a second rope. Then he took her foot and put it upon a strand of rope which gave under her weight.

”A ladder,” he whispered. ”I will hold you as far as I can, then you must go up alone. A hand will be stretched down to help you. My man Seth is at the window above.”

Barrington gave a low whistle, hardly more than a sign, which was answered from above.

”Now,” he said.

He helped her as far as possible, then held the rope ladder as steady as he could. In a few seconds another low whistle came from above, and Barrington went up the ladder quickly. He climbed in at the open window, drew up the ladder, and closed the window.

”An excellent night for our purpose, Master Richard,” Seth whispered.

”Here is a sword, it is well to masquerade and be as much like truculent ruffians as possible; and two c.o.c.kades, one for mademoiselle.”

”We are expected, Seth?”

”Yes, any time before morning. They are prepared for us.”

”Where are we going?” whispered Jeanne.

”To the lodgings of a servant of Monsieur de Lafayette,” Barrington answered. ”This is an empty house which we shall leave by a window below. The worst is over. We shall be secure in our retreat until we can leave Paris. Lead the way, Seth.”

A set of rooms opened out into another, a door enclosing them from the pa.s.sage without. Seth led the way through the rooms and opened this door quietly. Then he stopped and drew back a little.

”What is it?” said Barrington under his breath.

”Listen!”

Jeanne's hand was still in Barrington's, and he felt her fingers tighten. To her the house was as still as death, the blackness of it empty; but to her companions whose ears were trained to keenness, there was movement in the air close to them.