"And what are Citizen Latour's plans for getting her out of Paris?"
"He is making them, but they change from day to day as the circumstances change. At the first opportunity he will come to you."
"I must wait with what patience I can," said Barrington.
"And remain as quiet as you can," said Sabatier. "The crowd will be hunting for you for some time, and a noise might attract them."
"I shall not court death; I have a good deal to live for," said Barrington.
"Then, monsieur, I will leave you. Citizen Latour will be distressed until he knows you are safe."
Richard Barrington's patience was destined to be sufficiently tried. It was a poor, miserable caricature of daylight which found its way through the barred grating, and for three days Sabatier visited him every morning with the same news that the crowds parading the Rue Charonne made it impossible for Latour to come.
"Is it necessary to lock me in?" Barrington asked.
"It is not to prevent your going out, monsieur, but to insure that your enemies do not come in."
"I feel like a prisoner."