from the English navy had landed them at Biville near Dieppe; there a man from Eu or Treport had met them and conducted them a little way from the shore to a farm of which Querelle did not know the name.  They left again in the night, and in this way, from farm to farm, they journeyed to Paris where they did not meet until Georges called them together; they received their pay in a manner agreed upon.  His own share was deposited under a stone in the Champs Elysees every week, and he fetched it from there.  A “gentleman” had come to meet them at the last stage of their journey, near the village of Saint-Leu-Taverny, to prepare for their entry into Paris and help them to pass the barrier.

One point stood out boldly in all these revelations:  Georges was in Paris!  Real, whose account we have followed, left Querelle and hastened to the Tuileries.  The First Consul was in the hands of Constant, his valet, when the detective was announced.  Noticing his pallor, Bonaparte supposed he had just come from the execution of the three condemned men.

“It is over, isn’t it?” he said.

“No, General,” replied Real.

And seeing his hesitation the Consul continued:  “You may speak before Constant.”

“Well then,—­Georges and his band are in Paris.”

On hearing the name of the only man he feared Bonaparte turned round quickly, made the sign of the cross, and taking Real by the sleeve led him into the adjoining room.

So the First Consul’s police, so numerous, so careful, and so active, the police who according to the Moniteur “had eyes everywhere,” had been at fault for six months!  A hundred reports were daily piled up on Real’s table, and not one of them had mentioned the goings and comings of Georges, who travelled with his Chouans from Dieppe to Paris, supported a little army, and planned his operations with as much liberty as if he were in London.  These revelations were so alarming that they preferred not to believe them.  Querelle must have invented this absurd story as a last resource for prolonging his life.  To set at rest all doubt on this subject he must be convinced of the imposture.  If it was true that he had accompanied the “brigands” from the sea to Paris, he could, on travelling over the route, show their different halting-places.  If he could do this his life was to be spared.

From the 27th January, when he made his first declarations, Querelle was visited every night by Real or Desmarets who questioned him minutely.  The unfortunate creature had sustained such a shock, that, even while maintaining his avowals, he would be seized with fits of madness, and beating his breast, would fall on his knees and call on those whom fear of death had caused him to denounce, imploring their pardon.  When he learned what was expected of him he appeared to be overwhelmed, not at the number of victims he was going to betray, but because he was aghast at the idea of leading the detectives over a road that