A little later Dr. Legrand hurried along the Rue Charonne, caring nothing that people looked after him.  He was a doctor of lunatics, they said, possibly he had gone mad himself.  They laughed and took no further notice of him.  He traversed several streets in the Faubourg St. Antoine, evidently familiar ground to him, and presently entered a tumbledown tenement.  Going hastily to the top floor, he knocked with his knuckles at a closed door, two low, single knocks, and a double one.  It was evidently a signal, for the door was opened at once and Lucien Bruslart stood before him.

“So soon!” he exclaimed.

Legrand entered, pushing Bruslart back into the room, and shut the door.

“She’s gone!  Escaped!  Last night!”

Bruslart showed no sign of surprise.  He sat on the edge of the table and waited for more information.  Legrand had no more to give.  In his hurried journey from the Rue Charonne he had thought of many things, and now made no mention of the fact that another of his guests had also disappeared.

“How did she manage to escape out of your clutches?” asked Bruslart, after a pause.

“I don’t know, and does it matter?  She is gone, that is enough.”

“Bad for you, Legrand.  She will explain how she came to be in your house, and your friends will be asking why you took any one they did not send to you.  An awkward question, Legrand.”

“I shall easily answer that.  The difficulty is for you, my friend.  How will you explain your dealings with an aristocrat for whom all Paris is hunting?”

“More easily perhaps than you imagine.”

“You cannot, you cannot.  I am the only man who can help you.”

“Your help does not seem very effectual, does it?” said Bruslart.  “You were to have come this morning with certain papers assuring me that a certain troublesome person was in the hands of the authorities, and in return you were to receive a certain fee.  Well, you have no papers, therefore you get no fee.”

“But what will you do?”

“Wait here.  I have been safe so far.”

“It is impossible,” said Legrand.  “I shall be asked questions, I shall have to answer them.  I know Citizen Bruslart as a good patriot.  He brings me a lady to take charge of.  What could I do but obey?  I shall be asked where Citizen Bruslart is now.”

“I see you contemplate betraying me, is that it?”

“No, no, but I must answer questions.”

“How do you propose to help betraying me then?” Bruslart asked.

“Now you are sensible.  We must work together, is it not so?  Paris is dangerous for you.  You are a rich man and the place for you is across the frontier.  A friend of mine, a good citizen, has for days been ready to travel at a moment’s notice, and will take a servant with him.  He has papers that cannot be questioned for himself and for you, his servant.  He goes by way of Metz and then to Valenciennes.  You will slip across the frontier into Belgium.  You have heard of the inn, on that road, La Houlette.  Once there you may throw away your cockade and become again a nobleman.  It is your metier, my friend, you were never intended for a patriot.  And now that you have money what better could you wish for?”