“’Tis a pleasure I have long had in contemplation and which has become peculiarly dear to me of late,” and the speaker laughed mockingly.  “I shall denounce d’Azay to-morrow.”

Calvert started and looked hurriedly through the small panel of glass at the top of the screen.  Even before he looked he knew he was not mistaken—­St. Aulaire sat at the table with three companions, and it was he who had spoken.  Two of the men—­one of them had a most villainous countenance—­Calvert had never seen before, but the third one he discovered, to his intense surprise, was Bertrand—­Bertrand, whose honest lackey’s face now wore a curious and sinister look of power and importance.  So, it was in the society of such that Monsieur de St. Aulaire now talked and drank familiarly!

“He has already been denounced and released,” says Bertrand, moodily.

“He will not be released this time,” replies St. Aulaire, with so much evident satisfaction as to strike one of the other two drinkers with astonishment.

“Not entirely a matter of patriotism, I judge?” he questioned, with a chuckle.

“A duty I owe myself as well as to my country,” says St. Aulaire, so much mocking meaning in his voice and glance that his three listeners fell to laughing.

“There is a lady to whom I owe a small debt of ingratitude, and I like best to settle the case in this fashion.”

So that was his method of punishment!  To strike Adrienne through her brother—­to spare her and take away all that she loved!  Calvert thought ’twas a way worthy of its author, and so strong a desire took possession of him to leap upon St. Aulaire and strike him dead that he caught hold of the sides of the chair to restrain himself.

“But you are not a member of the Assembly,” objected the man who had hitherto kept silent.

“I have observed that a denunciation from the gallery is more dramatic and effective than one from the floor.  Besides, there is no one just at present to do it for me.  I am well prepared.  When I rise to-morrow and call the attention of Monsieur de Gensonne to the fact that I have proof of the treasonable relations of Monsieur d’Azay with the chiefs of the counter-revolutionists across the Rhine, ’twill be as if Monsieur d’Azay already stood condemned before the bar of the Assembly,” and he struck the table with his clinched fist.

While the glasses were still rattling from the blow and St. Aulaire’s companions laughing at his vehemence, Mr. Calvert made his decision.  By St. Aulaire’s own confession there was no one else interested, for the moment, at least, in denouncing d’Azay.  If he were out of the way that denunciation would not take place and d’Azay might be got out of Paris.  At all hazards and at all costs St. Aulaire must not go to the Assembly on the next day.  At all hazards and at all costs St. Aulaire must not know that he, Calvert, desired to prevent his going.  He must be surprised, driven to his own destruction, if it could be done.