Chapter XXV. Paris Once More
Sir Andrew had just come in. He was trying to get a little warmth into his half-frozen limbs, for the cold had set in again, and this time with renewed vigour, and Marguerite was pouring out a cup of hot coffee which she had been brewing for him. She had not asked for news. She knew that he had none to give her, else he had not worn that wearied, despondent look in his kind face. "I'll just try one more place this evening," he said as soon as he had swallowed some of the hot coffee--"a restaurant in the Rue de la Harpe; the members of the Cordeliers' Club often go there for supper, and they are usually well informed. I might glean something definite there." "It seems very strange that they are so slow in bringing him to trial," said Marguerite in that dull, toneless voice which had becom
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