One thing was certain, he must make use of the friendship Latour had offered him.  There was danger in it no doubt, but Mademoiselle St. Clair’s life was at stake, so the danger counted for nothing.  Moreover, Barrington had papers in his possession to prove what his object was in coming to France, and he had already thrown out the suggestion to Latour that his reason in smuggling mademoiselle into Paris might have been a sinister one; and since Latour must have enemies, there would at least be some who would believe Barrington’s statement that this deputy was ready to plot on behalf of an aristocrat, that over his wine he had confessed it.  The struggle with Raymond Latour might be a more equal one than it appeared on a first consideration.

Next morning he told Seth his plans.  “First I shall see Monsieur Bruslart early this afternoon as arranged.  Unless he should have had some extraordinary success last night, which is hardly to be expected, I shall then go and see Latour.”

“It may be only to walk into a den of lions,” said Seth.

“Probably, but I am not altogether without means of taming them—­and you know, Seth, where I have gone.  If I am missing, it will be your task to find where I am, and if necessary, you must go to the Marquis de Lafayette and tell him.”

“You will have also told Monsieur Bruslart.”

“I am not sure,” Barrington answered.  “It will depend on circumstances.”

“I should be inclined to let circumstances prevent it,” said Seth.  “I have not much faith in the help of a man who is so sure of his own cleverness that he takes the woman he loves to the very place where a child might know she would be in the greatest danger.”

“I cannot understand that, I must confess, Seth.”

“Well, Master Richard, I’ve always found it a good rule to have as little as possible to do with people you don’t understand.”

It was wise advice, perhaps, but the fact that Barrington had accused himself of entertaining a selfish hope that Lucien Bruslart was not a worthy man inclined him to believe in him, to trust him.  He had, indeed, greater reason to do so now that grave suspicion was attached to Latour.

There was nothing of the despair of last night in Bruslart’s manner to-day when Barrington saw him.  It had not been replaced by confidence, but a dogged purpose was in his face, and a calm calculation in his words.

“I have done something but not much,” he said.  “After leaving you last evening, I fell in with a lot of patriots and I was quickly aware that I was in greater danger than I had imagined.  I had to think of myself, for once my word is discredited, all my power to help mademoiselle is gone.”

“Have you succeeded in re-establishing your credit?”

“I think so.  I understand the mob and played to it.  I had to lie of course, lies are the chief currency in Paris to-day.  I knew nothing of mademoiselle’s coming, I said; I did not even know the name of the aristocrat who had been arrested in my apartment, and naturally, as a true patriot I rejoiced at her arrest.  I was considered a very fine fellow before the evening was out.”