way. He may quiet down after he's seen you."

The man moved slightly as Barrington entered the room, and when he spoke
his words came slowly and in a whisper, yet with some eagerness.

"They left me for dead, monsieur; they were disturbed, perhaps."

"Why did they attack you?"

"I was carrying a message."

"A letter--and they stole it?" asked Barrington.

"No, a message. It was not safe to write."

"To whom was the message?"

"To a woman, my mistress, from her lover. He is in the hands of the
rabble, and only she can save him. For the love of Heaven, monsieur,
take the message to her. I cannot go."

"What is her name?" Barrington asked.

"Mademoiselle St. Clair."

"Certainly, she shall have it. How shall I make her understand?"

"Say Lucien prays her to come to Paris. In my coat yonder, in the lining
of the collar, is a little gold star, her gift to him. Say Rouzet gave
it to you because he could travel no farther. She will understand. You