“But how did the trinket come into his possession?  I thought you always wore it.”

“I did, but in such a hurry were they to arrest me that they came while I was yet in bed.  I had to dress with two men watching me, and I left the gold star in a drawer.”

“And Rouzet found it?”

“How else could he have started to ride to Beauvais with it?” said Lucien.  “Truly, Jeanne, you seem as hard to convince as if you were really a market woman suspecting every purchaser of trying to get the better of her in a bargain.”

“Forgive me, but I have come through such a maze of deceit that full belief is difficult,” she answered.  “Have you no friend named Mercier?”

“Half the ragged fellows passing in the street might claim friendship with me, so well do I play the part of patriot; but I am not conscious of having a friend of that name.”

“There is such a man, and his knowledge of you is intimate.  He brought me the gold star.”

“Tell me the whole story, Jeanne.  I may find a clew in it.”

He listened to the tale, asking no questions.  There was excitement in his face as she recounted her adventure at the Lion d’Or and her rescue by Barrington.  It was simply told, yet dramatically, and Lucien’s face flushed and paled.  This beautiful woman had passed through this terrible experience because she loved him.

“They shall pay for it,” he said, between his closed teeth, it was the only thought in his mind at the moment—­“they shall pay, by Heaven! they shall.”

His earnestness pleased her.  This was the Lucien she knew.

“What was it you heard of me last night?” she asked.

“I was told that Rouzet had been watched and followed, that he had been killed on the high road, and the star stolen; that no message could possibly have reached you at Beauvais.  It is evident there are others who have plotted to bring you into danger.”

“And succeeded,” she answered.

“You must be placed in safety without delay, Jeanne.  These scoundrels will follow you hot-footed to Paris.”

“Monsieur de Lafayette has advised me to return to Beauvais.”

“Excellent advice, but impossible.  A little while ago his name might have been a safeguard, but his day is over.  He clings too persistently to a rock which the rising tide is covering.  I have another plan.  Tell me, is this man Barrington to be trusted?”

“Trusted!”

She spoke so quickly and certainly that Lucien started.  He was inclined to resent such a tone used in the defense of another man.

“There is a wealth of eloquence in the word as you utter it, Jeanne.”

“It is only his courage which has made this meeting possible,” she said quietly.

“Many a man who is not to be trusted is full of courage,” Lucien returned.  “One gets skeptical in these days, and I have your safety to think of.  You must let me form my own judgment of this man when I see him.”