"A strange thing at my age, Seth. I have thought that no woman is likely
to plague me much."

"Get well into your grave before you think that," was the answer. "I'm
no hater of women, far from it, and I know a man's never safe. Why, a
chit of twenty may make a fool of a veteran, and set his tired old heart
trying to beat like that of a lad just out of his school days. Only last
year there was a girl in Virginia sent me panting along this road of
folly, and I'm not sure it wasn't Providence which sent me with you to
France."

Beauvais presented a lively scene that day, but it was in vain that
Barrington kept a sharp lookout for Monsieur le Comte and his friend.
Many people came and went from the château, but they were not among
them. Barrington did not particularly want to meet them, but he realized
that circumstances might arise which would make them useful, and he
would have liked to find out what position they held among the other
exiles in Beauvais. A prominent one, surely, since the Marquise had
fetched them to lodgings in the château, and therefore it was possible
that Barrington's arrival had puzzled them. They might reasonably doubt
whether he had any right to pose as an aristocrat and an exile,
suspicion would certainly follow, and sharp eyes might be upon him at
the ball to-night. Even as a go-between in a love affair there might be
some danger for him, but was his mission only that?

When he left his lodgings that evening he had disguised himself as much
as possible. He wore a cloak which his acquaintances of last night had
not seen, he had procured a mask which hid as much of his face as
possible. He went armed, and fastened in the lining of his coat was the
little gold star he had taken from the dead man's coat. He fingered it