Sabatier and his companion had left the inn, he had gone upstairs for
this purpose, only to find the man dead. He had made a promise to a
dying man, and at all hazards that promise must be fulfilled. The sooner
it was done, the sooner he could journey to Paris; and their arrival in
Beauvais at the time of this masked ball was fortunate: there need be
little delay.

A little later Monsieur le Comte found them.

"We must needs celebrate your escape," he said. "This is my friend, like
myself an exile from Paris. You are also from Paris?"

"From outside Paris," Barrington answered. For the nonce he must pose as
an aristocrat, and wondered by what name he might best deceive them.
Seth, too, was a grave difficulty. He could show few marks of an
aristocrat.

The Frenchman's next words saved him all trouble, however.

"We do not ask too many questions in Beauvais, Monsieur. That we are
here proves that we do not uphold the people, and we need not too
closely inquire who our neighbor may be. We shall not all wish to
maintain the friendships made in exile when we return to France. Here's
to your safe arrival, Monsieur, and to our speedy return. The sentiment
is of the best vintage, though the wine may be inferior. I warrant the
cellars of the château will do better for us to-morrow night. You go to
the ball, Monsieur?"

"I am ill-provided for such an entertainment."