Before the man could give a word of further explanation there was a loud knocking at the door of the inn which the landlord had closed for the night, and when it was not opened immediately, angry curses and a threat to break it down.  The patient on the bed did not start, he was too grievously hurt to do that, but his white face grew gray with fear.

“It is nothing, only a late traveler,” said Barrington.  “And, my good fellow, I cannot go to—­”

The man’s eyes were closed.  The sudden fear seemed to have robbed him of consciousness.  It was quite evident to Barrington that he could not be made to understand just now that a journey to Beauvais was impossible.  He waited a few minutes to see if the man would rouse again, but he did not, and seeing that an explanation must be put off until later, he went out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.  As he descended the stairs the landlord tiptoed up to meet him.

“The men who were here to-day and cursed my wine,” he whispered.  “Two of them have returned!”

CHAPTER II

A BINDING OATH

The return of these men, if indeed they were responsible for the condition of the man upstairs, might augur further evil for him.  They had perchance returned along the road to make certain that their work was complete, and, finding their victim gone, were now in search of him.  Exactly what reliance was to be placed on the word of the wounded man, Barrington had not yet determined.  He might be a contemptible spy, his message might contain hidden information to the enemies of his country; he was certainly carrying it to aristocrats who were safe across the frontier, and he might fully deserve all the punishment which had been meted out to him, but for the moment he was unable to raise a hand in his own defense and his helplessness appealed to Barrington.  These men should not have their will of him if he could prevent it.

“Keep out of the way of being questioned,” he whispered to the landlord, as they went down the stairs.  It was characteristic of Richard Barrington that he had formed no plan when he entered the room.  He believed that actions must always be controlled by the circumstances of the moment, that it was generally essential to see one’s enemy before deciding how to outwit him, a false theory perhaps, but, given a strong personality, one which is often successful.

“Good evening, gentlemen!  My friend and I are not the only late travelers to-night.”

The two men looked sharply at him.  Their attention had been keenly, though furtively, concentrated upon Seth, who sat in a corner, apparently half asleep.  In fact, having just noticed them, he had closed his eyes as though he were too weary and worn out to talk.

Both men curtly acknowledged Barrington’s greeting, hardly conscious of the curtness maybe.  They were of the people, their natural roughness turned to a sort of insolent swagger by reason of the authority which had been thrust upon them.  They were armed, blatantly so, and displayed the tri-colored cockade.  In some society, at any rate, they were of importance, and this stranger and the manner of his greeting puzzled them.  He spoke like an aristocrat, yet there was something unfamiliar about him.