Pistol in hand, Barrington stepped quickly into the kitchen. It was empty. There was a door between the windows, and the next moment they were in the garden. He took the woman's hand, guiding her to the broken place in the wooden fence. There he paused, looking back and listening. There was no sound of an alarm yet, no cries to suggest that the fiends had rushed up the stairs to wreak their savagery on a defenseless woman. For a moment Barrington contemplated taking a horse from the stable, but he dared not run the risk of the delay. Chance must bring them the means of entering Paris in safety.
"We must run, mademoiselle. My servant is waiting for me."
She gathered her skirts about her.
"Give me your hand again—it will help you."
So they ran across the fields, making for the road and the clump of trees in the lane where Seth waited.
CHAPTER X
THE SAFETY OF MADEMOISELLE
The two men had sat for a long while facing each other, one doing all the talking, the other listening eagerly.