“Do you mean that he is arrested?  I might get a message through to my master who is with the army in the north.”

“I don’t know that he is arrested.  No, I think it would be better not to send a message until I am certain.  It is possible, although not probable, that you may hear of my master; if you do will you let me know?”

“I will.  You are still at the house of Monsieur Fargeau?”

“Yes, and shall remain there.”

Seth next went to find Lucien Bruslart.  He had no intention of being open with him.  He had concocted an ambiguous message from his master, so framed as to astonish Bruslart, whether he knew where Richard Barrington was or not, and Seth hoped to read something of the truth in his face.

Citizen Bruslart’s apartment was closed, and the concierge knew nothing about him.  His servants had also gone.

“Ah! like rats from a sinking ship, eh, citizen?”

“Maybe.  I’m no politician.”

“Nor I,” said Seth, “until there’s my own skin to keep whole, and then I’ll be politician enough to fight for it.  It’s not only the aristocrats who are dangerous, citizen.”

“Why, that’s true.”

“And if there’s a wine shop handy we might drink confusion to all the enemies of liberty,” Seth returned.

The porter was nothing loth, and was soon talking glibly enough.

“I’m not to be deceived,” he said, eying Seth curiously.  “You are a man with power, and Citizen Bruslart is wanted.”

“Ah, you may be no politician, but I see you are no fool,” answered Seth, with a swagger unnatural to him.  “Men are brought out of the provinces to work in Paris sometimes.  Maybe that is why you do not know me.  There has been some good work done in the provinces and the authorities begin to understand the value of the men who have done it.  Now Citizen Bruslart—­”

“I know only this,” said the porter, confidentially.  “He went out very hurriedly one morning, and has not returned.  His man followed and has not returned either.  I do not think Citizen Bruslart intends to come back.”

“But they have not sent to arrest him,” said Seth.

“Not until you came, citizen,” answered the porter, with a wink to show how exceedingly knowing he was.

“You’re a smart man.  I might presently find use for you.”

“I have done a little already, citizen.  Two aristocrats have looked through the little window with my help.”

“Good, very good.  May you receive the reward you deserve,” Seth answered, rising as he finished his wine.  “I shall hardly earn my pay if I stay longer.  You’re of the kind I should like to reward, an excellent double-faced man, Judas-like, betraying with a kiss.  These are the men who succeed to-day.  I love them as I love hell and the guillotine.”

Even the porter was a little afraid of such a patriot, and was rather glad to see the back of him as he swaggered away.