The Light That Lures

ment made for an early departure next morning. In these days it was no place of call for those who would leave the capital secretly. Patriots were inclined to congregate about the Lion d'Or and

l with them. There were lynx-eyed men at the city

cockade, who was needed in Paris to give evidence against an aristocrat. That was good news, and better still, her fellow-travelers were undoubtedly true patriots and had the will and

r her frugal meal, except by her companions perchance, and she had thrown back her rough cloak, showing fustian garments beneath, yet she was a strange peasant woman surely. Hands and face were stained a little, as though from exposur

me handle, he explained, but necessary for their safety. He wore the tri-color, too, and

here who will ride into Paris and bring us word in the morning h

nything of Luc

er. And I will not stay with you. It would not be wise to take too much

t was easy to be suspicious. Truly, Monsieur Mercier had proved himself a friend, full of ideas, full of resource, for danger had threatened them more than once upon the long and tedious journey from Beauvais. They had been obliged to halt at strange taverns, and there had been many delays. Now they were within a few miles of Paris-of Lucien. Yes, Monsieur Mercier had proved himself a friend, and yet, had it been possible,

ear. She did not trouble to take this man into the chamber in the round tower, but she led him aside where he could talk withou

iselle to Paris. Rouzet had been followed. Mercier, with a friend, had immediately ridden after him, only, alas! to find him dead upon the roadside and the star gone. They continued their journey toward Beauvais, with only one clew to the scoundrel who had murdered and robbed the faithful Rouzet. He was not a Frenchman. Even now Mercier did not know his name, but he and his friend had distanced the foreigner and his companion on the road and arrived first in Beauvais. Lodgings were scarce owing to the ball, and Mercier had waited for the villains, had taken them

not believe him until she had questioned him closely. As Mercier frankly answered her, she understood with how improbable a tale Barrington had deceived her. Mercier was quick with advice. He knew that Madame la Marquise had no great affection for his friend Lucien.

tion was justifiable. There was not a man in the chateau of Beauvais who would not stand her champion. She sought out the Vicomte de Montbard, told him that this

shall beat the life out

cealed the instincts of a gentleman, let him have the chance of dying like one. But go with on

selle, you treat him

I believed him to be a man of honor. Let him so far

I will do myself the honor of visiting you to

Vicomte was one of the most ac

eanne St. Clair

nly that, coincident with his coming, some secret chamber of her soul had been unlocked, and in it were stored new, dreams, new thoughts, new ambitions. They were added to the old, not given in exchange for them, but they had helped her to appreciate the man's position when he found the star was iron instead of gold, they had helped her to believe his tale. Her short interview with this man had suddenly widened her view of life, the horizon of her existence had expanded into a wider circle; this expansion remained, although the man had deceived her. In spite of that deceit there was something in this Richard Barrington to admire, and she was glad she had demande

y her loneliness and the shadows creeping into the room which brought doubts crowding into her mind? This friend of Lucien's, this Monsieur Mercier, what real guarantee had she of his honesty? He had brought her the gold star. It seemed a sufficient answer, but doubts are subtle and have many arguments. Why should s

coarse, raucous, many voices talking together, a shouted oath the only word distinguishable. Was this place, crowded with so

ur of light at the end where the top of the staircase was. Walking on tiptoe, she went towar

ooking through the banisters she could only see a part of the room. There were more visitors than chairs and benches, some sat on casks standing on end, and by way of applause at some witty sally or coarse joke, pounded the casks with their heels

zens," Mercier hiccoughed. "I've done great

smiled

in the prisons, or are they fil

er playing a part for her greater

," laughed a man, "or they'll make room by

growled another. "There's some calling them

ls greeted t

r if I could throw this bottle and hit one or t

rowl was t

they? No," cried Mercier, clasping a bottle by the neck and striking the table with it so that it smashed and the red wine ran like blood.

led wine, then held them up and laughed as the dro

ercier, and you'll be the f

istocrat, and doing it so well that one cursed head is already

on the stairs, h

Mercier!" c

hen a thud as a man jumped from a

heads in Paris. Why not to-night, here, outside the Lion d'O

door. A man staggering with the drink in him, fell upon th

. "She's a peasant, my witness against an aristo

ngerous act

rself in? Her room, it was safer. They would fight among themselves, whether she was to be disturbed or not. Locked in her room she would at least have