"My father," she said quickly, "is in danger. There is no one else
in Dantzig to whom we can turn, and--"
She paused. What was she going to add? She hesitated, and then was
silent. There was no reason why she should have elected to come to
him. At all events she gave none.
"I am glad I was in Dantzig when it happened," he said, turning to
take up his cap, which was of rough dark fur, such as seamen wear
even in summer at night in the Northern seas.
"Come," he added, "you can tell me as we go ashore."
But they did not speak while the sailor sculled the boat to the
steps. On the quay they would probably pass unnoticed, for there
were many strange sailors at this time in Dantzig, and Louis
d'Arragon might easily be mistaken for one of the French seamen who
had brought stores by sea from Bordeaux and Brest and Cherbourg.
"Now tell me," he said, as they walked side by side; and in voluble
French, Desiree launched into her story. It was rather incoherent,
by reason, perhaps, of its frankness.
"Stop--stop," he interrupted gravely, "who is Barlasch?"
Louis walked rather slowly in his stiff sea-boots at her side, and
she instinctively spoke less rapidly as she explained the part that
Barlasch had played.
"And you trust him?"
"Of course," she answered.
"But why?"
"Oh, you are so matter-of-fact," she exclaimed; "I do not know.
Because he is trustworthy, I suppose."
She continued the story, but suddenly stopped and looked up at him
under the shadow of her hood.
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