"Even if he knows, the American is not a man to betray confidence. Under like circumstances you would not speak yourself, citizen."
"True. I should go to the guillotine as he must."
"Not yet," said Sabatier. "Give him time and opportunity."
"Curse him," said Latour. "I want to hear no more about him, I only want to know that mademoiselle is found."
In his daily visits to Barrington, Sabatier said little of what was passing in Paris, but much to persuade him to patience; and as he went along the streets he kept his eyes open hoping to see Seth. He did not see him, yet another man gave him the clew and unwittingly directed him to the house of Citizen Fargeau.
Seth went little abroad in these days. It was not fear which kept him within doors, but the hope of receiving at any moment further word of his master. Everything might depend on prompt action when the moment came. Few men could remain so patiently inactive as Seth, once he was convinced that inaction was the best course to pursue. This Latour had not lied to him. The promised letter from Richard Barrington had been given to him, he knew that it was genuine, and was content to obey that letter. For the time being he was as little interested in politics as Fargeau was, and the news of the king's trial which came into this quiet retreat had an unreal sound about it, like a faint echo of something happening a great way off. Richard Barrington filled Seth's mind, he had little room for any other thoughts.
One evening there came a knock at his door and the servant of Monsieur de Lafayette entered.
"News, at last," Seth said, and in a tone which showed that in spite of his patience, the waiting had been weary work.
"A letter," the man answered.
Seth looked at it. It was addressed to Richard Barrington, just the name written, that was all.