The flush of shame deepened in St. Just's cheek. There had not been a
hint of reproach in the voice of his chief, and the eyes which regarded
him now from beneath the half-closed lids showed nothing but lazy
bonhomie.

In a moment now Armand realised all the harm which his recklessness
had done, was still doing to the work of the League. Every one of his
actions since his arrival in Paris two days ago had jeopardised a plan
or endangered a life: his friendship with de Batz, his connection with
Mademoiselle Lange, his visit to her yesterday afternoon, the repetition
of it this morning, culminating in that wild run through the streets of
Paris, when at any moment a spy lurking round a corner might either have
barred his way, or, worse still, have followed him to Blakeney's door.
Armand, without a thought of any one save of his beloved, might easily
this morning have brought an agent of the Committee of General Security
face to face with his chief.

"Percy," he murmured, "can you ever forgive me?"

"Pshaw, man!" retorted Blakeney lightly; "there is naught to forgive,
only a great deal that should no longer be forgotten; your duty to the
others, for instance, your obedience, and your honour."

"I was mad, Percy. Oh! if you only could understand what she means to
me!"

Blakeney laughed, his own light-hearted careless laugh, which so often
before now had helped to hide what he really felt from the eyes of the
indifferent, and even from those of his friends.

"No! no!" he said lightly, "we agreed last night, did we not? that in
matters of sentiment I am a cold-blooded fish. But will you at any rate
concede that I am a man of my word? Did I not pledge it last night that
Mademoiselle Lange would be safe? I foresaw her arrest the moment I
heard your story. I hoped that I might reach her before that brute
Heron's return; unfortunately he forestalled me by less than half an
hour. Mademoiselle Lange has been arrested, Armand; but why should you
not trust me on that account? Have we not succeeded, I and the others,
in worse cases than this one? They mean no harm to Jeanne Lange," he
added emphatically; "I give you my word on that. They only want her as
a decoy. It is you they want. You through her, and me through you. I
pledge you my honour that she will be safe. You must try and trust me,
Armand. It is much to ask, I know, for you will have to trust me with
what is most precious in the world to you; and you will have to obey m