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"Yes, and asleep probably," said Sabatier, answering the question in his eyes. "It was well done," said Latour. "Come to me early to-morrow. This man Barrington may be suspected and must be warned." "And Bruslart?" "Yes, to-morrow we must think of him, too. Good night, citizen." Sabatier went down the stairs, and Latour entered his room. Midnight! Was she yet asleep?
"It was very amusing." "I am waiting to hear the business which necessitates my presence here," said Jeanne. "Ah, mademoiselle, it is a painful matter; it pains me. There is no remittance from Monsieur Bruslart this week. It has always come on Friday night, but this is Saturday morning and it is still not here." Jeanne did not answer for a moment. "Of course there is some mistake," she said.
There was in her attitude that sudden savagery which a cat shows at the prospect of being robbed of its prey. "He has not left Paris," said Latour. "Even if he had, I should find him," she said. Latour left her and returned to his own rooms. "This woman will find him, once she is let loose," he muttered. "I can almost pity Citizen Bruslart, thrice damned villain that he is. And Barrington?
"They would scramble for your gold and cry for more, but they would still curse you. The mob is king." "There is the individual, monsieur," said Barrington. "Try a golden key on his cupidity. I do not mean on a man who is swaggering with new authority, but some jailer in the prison." "It might be done," said Bruslart. "It can. It must. You may use me as you will," Barrington returned.
There was no knowing what Bruslart might say. The temper of the Convention was uncertain. He might be arrested too, or perchance plundered of his gains.
It is not enough that a cursed aristocrat uses my lodgings as a shelter while I am away from home, but a crowd of unauthorized persons invade it and break a cabinet for which I have a great affection. Maybe, since you were there, Citizen Boissin, you can tell me who broke my cabinet." "Curse your cabinet!" "Curse you for coming to my lodgings without an invitation," said Bruslart, quietly.
"Again I thank you," he said quietly, "but, my friend, you are not the only man who is competent to prophesy in what direction things may turn. You have set yourself a goal to win, so have I. It would almost seem that you expect our aims to clash." "Diable! Is that all you can see in good advice," said Latour. "I thought your wit went deeper." "Need we quarrel?" said Bruslart.
Your worth is not great even in his eyes." "Be sensible, Pauline. I will " "Pay me for secrecy? Will you give me the other half of mademoiselle's money?" "I said, be sensible. Come with me, join me on the road to the frontier. It is what I have intended all along." "It's a lie!" The woman was suddenly alive with passion dangerous, and Bruslart knew it. "You are not polite," he said.
Lucien did not understand why, but Latour might have found an answer to the question as he went back to the Rue Valette. He was not sure whether Bruslart had spoken the truth, he did not much care, yet he felt a twinge of conscience. It troubled him because he had not much difficulty in salving his conscience as a rule. It was generally easy to make the ends justify the means.
Clair came to be a guest at the house in the Rue Charonne, brought there for safety by Lucien Bruslart. She had been there a week when, not far away, Richard Barrington had been obliged to run for his life, and with the help of a man, whose identity the dark entry concealed, had jumped into safety.
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