Preceded by a page who carried a torch, Lebeau took the way towards Westminster. It seemed marvellous that he should know so well the location of Miss Woodville's abode.
"Will it please you to give me your arm?" he asked in a slightly changed, humble tone.
She passed her arm within his. Lebeau quickly drew his cocked hat down over his eyes to conceal his glance, and sustained the young girl with an almost tender solicitude, but with discretion and respect.
Thus they walked some distance in silence. At last he began:—
"You distrusted me at first."
She tried to protest, but he added:—
"Oh, you were quite right. Be on your guard. Life is full of snares. I have an intimate acquaintance with my brother man, and I find him bad."
Was he speaking of mankind in general, or of some one in particular? Esther was upon the point of inquiring when they halted in Tothill Street before a low door, upon which Lebeau knocked loudly.
"Some one is coming," he said; "I hear steps in the garden. You have escaped a menacing danger. I do not speak of being crushed beneath the hoofs of the horses; that would be as nothing compared with the other. You are saved, but the peril may threaten you again at any moment. However, it does not signify. You are in my care."
With these words he turned upon his heel and vanished just as the door was thrown open. Esther found herself confronted by the more severe than anxious face of her cousin Reuben. With his youthful air, his light, fluffy hair and sombre eyes, he resembled one of those avenging angels whom the Lord sent to the guilty cities to pronounce their doom when the hour of repentance had passed and that of retribution had sounded.