The Light That Lures | Page 8

they went down the stairs. It was characteristic of Richard Barrington that he had formed no plan when he entered the room. He believed that actions must always be controlled by the circumstances of the moment, that it was generally essential to see one's enemy before deciding how to outwit him, a false theory perhaps, but, given a strong personality, one which is often successful.
"Good evening, gentlemen! My friend and I are not the only late travelers to-night."
The two men looked sharply at him. Their attention had been keenly, though furtively, concentrated upon Seth, who sat in a corner, apparently half asleep. In fact, having just noticed them, he had closed his eyes as though he were too weary and worn out to talk.
Both men curtly acknowledged Barrington's greeting, hardly conscious of the curtness maybe. They were of the people, their natural roughness turned to a sort of insolent swagger by reason of the authority which had been thrust upon them. They were armed, blatantly so, and displayed the tri-colored cockade. In some society, at any rate, they were of importance, and this stranger and the manner of his greeting puzzled them. He spoke like an aristocrat, yet there was something unfamiliar about him.
"Did you have to batter at the door before you could gain admittance?" asked one. Of the two, he seemed to have the greater authority.
"No, we arrived before the door was closed."
"Closed doors are suspicious," the man returned with an oath. "This is the day of open doors and freedom for all, citizen."
"Liberty, equality, and fraternity," Barrington answered. "It is a good motto. One that men may well fight for."
"Do you fight for it?" asked the man, truculently.
"Not yet," said Barrington, very quietly and perfectly unmoved, apparently seeing nothing unusual in the man's manner or his question, but quite conscious that Seth had sleepily let his hand slip into his pocket and kept it there.
"Late travelers on the road are also suspicious," said the man, stepping a little nearer to Barrington.
"Indeed! Tell me, of what are you afraid? My friend and I are armed, as I see you are. We may join forces against a common danger. Four resolute men are not easily to be played with."
"Aristocrats find it convenient to travel at night, and tricked out just as you are," he said. "I have taken part in stopping many of them."
"Doubtless an excellent and useful occupation," Barrington returned.
"And I have heard many of them talk like that," said the man, "an attempt to throw dust into eyes far too sharp to be blinded by it. You will tell me where you travel to and where from."
"Do you ask out of courteous curiosity, as meeting travelers may do, or for some other reason?"
"You may think whichever pleases you."
"I am not making for the frontier, if that is what you want to know," laughed Barrington.
"I asked a question which it will be well for you to answer," said the man, and it was evident that his companion was also on the alert.
"Have you authority to question me?" Barrington asked.
"Papers here," said the man, touching his coat, "and this." His hand fell upon a pistol in his belt.
"Leave it there. It is the safest place."
Seth's hands had come from his pocket with a pistol in it. Barrington still laughed.
"My friend seems as suspicious as you are. Let me end it, for truly I expected to be drinking with you before this, instead of trying to find a cause for quarrel. Your eyes must be sharp indeed if you can discover an aristocrat in me. I was for freedom and the people before you had struck a blow for the cause here in France. We are from the coast, before that from America, and we journey to Paris to offer our services to the Marquis de Lafayette."
Perhaps the man believed him, perhaps he did not, but the result of an appeal to force was doubtful, and wine was an attraction. He held out his hand with an air that the welcome of France was in the action. For the present they could pose as friends, whatever might chance in the future.
"Sieur Motier the Marquis is now called, but in America that name would not appeal. We may drown our mistake in wine, the first but maybe not the last time we shall drink together."
The landlord brought in the wine and departed without being questioned.
"Sieur Motier," said Barrington, reflectively. "News has traveled slowly to us in Virginia, and things here have moved quickly. You can tell me much. This meeting is a fortunate one for me."
Into weeks and months had been crowded the ordinary work of a long period of time. After nearly three years of strenuous effort, the Constituent Assembly had come to an end. With Mirabeau as its master