The Light That Lures

by Percy James Brebner

"Do you believe him?" Sabatier asked.

The smile upon Latour's face suggested that he had no great faith in any one, that it was a sign of weakness to trust any man fully, and folly to express an opinion on such a subject.

"For all his professions of innocence a word would suffice to have him arrested," said Sabatier.

"It is the very last word I want spoken," Latour answered. "As you know, I have a personal interest in this affair. Citizen Bruslart is one of the cards in the game I play. Such a card in the hand is not to be carelessly thrown away, for there will surely come a time when it will be played with effect. Until then, Sabatier, make it your business to believe in Citizen Bruslart's patriotism, discourage as much as you can any questioning of it among those with whom you come in contact. Twice already to-day I have been loud in his praises. For the present he is safe, and we can watch him easily."

Perhaps Latour trusted Sabatier more fully than he did any of the others who served him, and there were many. He was farseeing enough to understand that popularity only was not sufficient security, that with the conflicting and changing interests which ruled Paris and the country, the friends of to-day might easily become the enemies of to-morrow. It was necessary to obtain some stronger hold upon the fickle populace, a security which was rooted in fear and ignorance of the extent of his power and knowledge. He had been careful, therefore, that the interests of those who served him should not be identical, that their individual importance should lie in different directions, in various quarters of the city and among different sections of the revolutionists whose aims and views were in many ways opposed to one another. The result was that Latour's power was appreciated on all sides, yet only imperfectly understood, and in the Convention he passed for something of an enigma, yet a man who was far safer as a friend than as an enemy. These confederates of his had one thing in common, however; all of them were beholden to Raymond Latour. He held some secret concerning each one of them; their lives, or at least their well-being, were in his hands; no one of them had his full confidence, and they could not afford either to deceive or betray him. His position was as secure as any man's in Paris. That he had enemies he knew, but they dare not strike; that he was watched he did not doubt, but the fact did not trouble him. Yet, at this juncture of his schemes, the espionage of one person who dogged his footsteps might have made him apprehensive had he known of it.

Seth, a hunter and trapper by nature, the son and grandson of men who for their own safety had to be trained in the subtle methods of the Indian, who himself had had no small experience in this respect, and easily followed a trail which was no trail to ordinary eyes, found little difficulty in watching Latour's movements. Barrington had taken Seth to the Rue Valette last night, and from the shadow on the opposite side of the street had pointed out Latour to him. Seth had followed Latour to the Abbaye prison, had seen him call Mathon from the neighboring wine shop, and before he slept Barrington had received the information. That Latour should go so promptly to this particular prison was at least surprising. He might have business there which had nothing to do with Jeanne St. Clair, he might still be in ignorance of the identity of the occupant of that coach, but Barrington could not believe this to be the case. He was much rather inclined to think with Lucien Bruslart that Latour had had a part in her betrayal.

One thing was certain, he must make use of the friendship Latour had offered him. There was danger in it no doubt, but Mademoiselle St. Clair's life was at stake, so the danger counted for nothing. Moreover, Barrington had papers in his possession to prove what his object was in coming to France, and he had already thrown out the suggestion to Latour that his reason in smuggling mademoiselle into Paris might have been a sinister one; and since Latour must have enemies, there would at least be some who would believe Barrington's statement that this deputy was ready to plot on behalf of an aristocrat, that over his wine he had confessed it. The struggle with Raymond Latour might be a more equal one than it appeared on a first consideration.

Next morning he told Seth his plans. "First I shall see Monsieur Bruslart early this afternoon as arranged. Unless he should have had some extraordinary success last night, which is hardly to be expected, I shall then go and see Latour."

"It may be only to walk into a den of lions," said Seth.

"Probably, but I am not altogether without means of taming them—and you know, Seth, where I have gone. If I am missing, it will be your task to find where I am, and if necessary, you must go to the Marquis de Lafayette and tell him."