he had traversed only at night, and that he feared he might not remember.  The expedition set out on February 3d.  Real had taken the precaution to have an escort of gendarmes for the prisoner whom Georges and his followers might try to rescue.  The detachment was commanded by a zealous and intelligent officer, Lieutenant Manginot, assisted by a giant called Pasque, an astute man celebrated for the sureness of his attack.  They left Paris at dawn by the Saint-Denis gate and took the road to l’Isle-Adam.

The first day’s search was without result.  Querelle thought he remembered that a house in the village of Taverny had sheltered the Chouans the night before their entry into Paris; but at the time he had not paid any attention to localities, and in spite of his efforts, he could be positive of nothing.  The next day they took the Pontoise road from Pierrelaye to Franconville,—­with no more success.  They returned towards Taverny by Ermont, le Plessis-Bouchard and the Chateau de Boissy.  Querelle, who knew that his life was at stake, showed a feverish eagerness which was not shared by Pasque nor Manginot, who were now fully persuaded that the prisoner had only wanted to gain time, or some chance of escape.  They thought of abandoning the search and returning to Paris, but Querelle begged so vehemently for twenty-four hours’ reprieve that Manginot weakened.  The third day, therefore, they explored the environs of Taverny and the borders of the forest as far as Bessancourt.  Querelle now led them by chance, thinking he recognised a group of trees, a turn of the road, even imagining he had found a farm “by the particular manner in which the dog barked.”

At last, worn out, the little band were returning to Paris when, on passing through the village of Saint-Leu, Querelle gave a triumphant cry!  He had just recognised the long-looked for house, and he gave so exact a description of it and its inhabitants that Pasque did not hesitate to interrogate the proprietor, a vine-dresser named Denis Lamotte.  He laid great stress on the fact that he had a son in the service of an officer of the Consul’s guard; his other son, Vincent Lamotte, lived with him.  The worthy man appeared very much surprised at the invasion of his house, but his peasant cunning could not long withstand the professional cleverness of the detective, and after a few minutes he gave up.

He admitted that at the beginning of July last he had received a person calling himself Houvel, or Saint-Vincent, who under pretence of buying some wine, had proposed to him to lodge seven or eight persons for a night.  Lamotte had accepted.  On the evening of the 30th August Houvel had reappeared and told him that the men would arrive that night.  He went to fetch them in the neighbourhood of l’Isle-Adam, and his son Vincent accompanied him to serve as guide to the travellers, whom he met on the borders of the wood of La Muette.  They numbered seven, one of whom, very stout and covered with sweat, stopped in