"At daybreak," said he to Frank, "the stranger and the young lady were placed in a berlin, and no one knows whither they went."

Frank was satisfied by Fisher's recital that "the young lady" could have been none other than Lady Vereker. It was she who had mystified Mowbray as she had for a moment deceived him. She, then, was the one to give him the key to the enigma. He hastened to her residence, but was not received. Her ladyship was not in town! He recalled the gypsy's words, who, undoubtedly having been paid by the young n.o.bleman, had played a part in the comedy. In order to find her he visited every spot where the gypsies were accustomed to camp,--Blackheath, Hampstead, the fields adjoining the Edgeware Road and Notting Hill. All in vain! Probably the members of the tribe had rushed into the thick of the riot which occupied the heart of the city.

At last he understood that the gypsy had been but an instrument. As for Lady Vereker, would she be likely to wish to save Esther or recapture her lost lover for her own sake? Would she not play her own game? Would she obey the will of the one who had directed the whole intrigue? It was then that his thoughts reverted to Lebeau. That mysterious person who was said to be the purveyor of Lord Mowbray's diversions had always inspired him with a vague repulsion. Two or three times he had met him, and each time he had felt annoyance at the piercing glance which the man had fixed upon him. Still it was he who had approached Lady Vereker at the Pantheon and had asked,--

"Are you ready?"

Frank began to suspect some shady machination to which Lebeau held the thread.

While Lord Mowbray, accompanied by his faithful Hackman, was seen everywhere, following with the interest of a dilettante the progress of the riot, Lebeau was invisible. Where was he concealed, and why should he conceal himself? Was Esther his prisoner, the victim of this scoundrel in some undiscovered lair? Frank's blood curdled with horror and rage at the thought.

It had been reported that at the moment Lord Mowbray's coach had carried off a masked woman, another young woman similarly attired, and escorted by a gentleman whose features were not distinguishable, had entered a sedan-chair which stood in waiting for her at one of the side entrances.

This chair had been borne off rapidly in the direction of the city.

Frank had questioned every chairman he chanced to meet; no one could or would give him the slightest satisfaction. After three days of fruitless search in every sense, he was at last forced to avow his impotence, when he was accosted by Levet, the surgeon.

"Come with us," said the big-hearted man; "there are Christians to be succored, lives to be saved, for to-night the devils are loose, and I know not which are more to be feared, the incendiaries or the soldiers.

Since so many are doing their worst, let us try to accomplish some little good."

Without a word Frank followed him. He needed action to lessen his fever, to make him forget his mortal anxiety. The office which he was about to fill at Levet's side was rife with peril, but whenever did a desperate man count the cost of his action?

CHAPTER XV.

SANCTUARY.

That same night, in a poorly furnished chamber, Esther sat, with bowed head, and hands clasped in her lap. By her side crouched an aged woman who mumbled incessantly, mingling wails, maledictions, and incomprehensible reminiscences of her childhood with fragments of prayers and sc.r.a.ps of biblical texts. She spoke to herself, never addressing the girl, who on her part paid her no heed. Esther's attention was riveted upon the sounds which reached her from the streets. With every minute the firing of a platoon, the crash of a wall undermined by the flames, or a savage clamor which rent the air, reached her ears and made her tremble.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The chamber was situated upon the second floor of a low house at the end of an alley, apparently deserted by its inhabitants; for there was no movement of life and no human being in sight. But at sixty paces away, though invisible, the great artery of Holborn, filled to overflowing with the howling, maddened crowd, sent a rumor of its infernal tumult to the two women. No candle burned in the room, but the neighboring glare from the conflagration of Langdale House illumined every object as distinctly as though it were noonday. Thus the hours dragged themselves away in gloomy monotony, notwithstanding the proximity of the confusion and the fury of human pa.s.sions in a state of paroxysm. Suddenly Esther sprang to her feet.

"Maud," she exclaimed, "the flames are gaining upon us!"

It was true. From the side of the little court upon which the chamber looked, the panes of a grated window had burst into fragments, while a tongue of flame had suddenly darted forth, licking the blackened walls and casting its lightning athwart the pervading flare.

"Maud! Maud! Soon it will be no longer safe for us to remain here!"

"G.o.d be praised!" answered the old woman, having raised a vague glance upon the scene. "He gives the victory unto his saints; it is he who has cast both horse and rider into the sea!"

"She is madder than ever," thought Esther; "this night has quite unseated her reason.--And Mons. Lebeau does not return!"

What was to be done? What resolution ought to be taken?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The circ.u.mstances which had led her into this perilous situation pa.s.sed swiftly through her mind. When she had placed her hand in that of the unknown who had p.r.o.nounced the preconcerted signal,--"The moon has risen!"--she immediately experienced a sense of regret at her fault; but this regret had not been sufficiently potent to arrest in time the accomplishment of her resolution. She permitted herself to be conducted to the door where the sedan-chair awaited her.

"No!" she then exclaimed, "this is enough! I will go no farther!"

"This is no time for discussion," replied an imperious voice which was not Lord Mowbray's; "get into the chair, quick!"

The thought of Frank, whom she was now certain she loved since jealousy had cast its unerring ray into the depths of her heart--this thought tortured her.

"I am lost!" she cried, "lost!"

"On the contrary, you are saved!"

And with the words ringing in her ears the chair started. The men almost ran with it, the result of the masked personage having said something to them about "paying double."

In less than a quarter of an hour the chair stopped in an alley-way off Holborn, and the gentleman, conducting the fugitive into one of the houses, dismissed the bearers.

When at last they were alone in the chamber upon the second floor and the man had succeeded in lighting a candle upon the mantelpiece, Esther easily recognized him.

"Mons. Lebeau!" she gasped in surprise.

"Yes," he replied, "and you are out of all danger here, absolute mistress of your destiny, since all that I wish is to offer you some respectful advice."

"But how could you have known? How could you take the place of another?"

"That is my secret--at least for the present. It is enough that I have succeeded. One word which has escaped you has led me to believe that you will not blame me for my intervention. I await the a.s.surance with anxiety. Have I been in the wrong to act as I have?"

"No," she answered after a moment's hesitation, "and I thank you. I do not love Lord Mowbray, and my folly was as inexcusable as it has been without consolation."

An expression of joy illumined Lebeau's withered features.

"Good!" he said. "But what motive has led you astray for the moment?"

"Vanity. Lord Mowbray a.s.sured me that he wished to make me his wife."

"His wife! He never dreamed of doing such a thing! Moreover, such a marriage would have been impossible. But let us speak no more about it."

"Are you not going to take me back to my aunt, whom I left in such a ridiculous predicament, and who must be dying with anxiety about me?"

"The predicament of which you speak must have soon terminated; and as for her anxiety, it is my duty not to disturb it for the present. Lord Mowbray has sworn that, by consent or force, he would abduct you this night, and I am not sure that you would be safe in the house in Tothill Fields, where there is no one to defend you, not even your cousin Reuben. These are my humble lodgings, although none of my acquaintances know of its existence nor the way thither. Rest here for a few hours.

To-morrow, by daylight, we will consider the situation. Be very sure that Mrs. Marsham will raise no objection, will address you no shadow of reproach. Your fault will not transpire, since I will tell her that it was I who brought you here to save you from the peril which menaced your honor."

"She knows you, then?"

"Very well indeed."

"For some time?"

"For a very long time."

After a brief pause he added,--