They knew now the orders which had been forwarded by signals from the citadel.  These orders had been printed and affixed to the walls.  The signals had said: 

“Montaignac must be regarded as in a state of siege.  The military authorities have been granted discretionary power.  A military commission will exercise jurisdiction instead of, and in place of, the courts.  Let peaceable citizens take courage; let the evil-disposed tremble!  As for the rabble, the sword of the law is about to strike!”

Only six lines in all—­but each word was a menace.

That which filled the abbe’s heart with dismay was the substitution of a military commission for a court-martial.

This upset all his plans, made all his precautions useless, and destroyed his hopes of saving his friend.

A court-martial was, of course, hasty and often unjust in its decisions; but still, it observed some of the forms of procedure practised in judicial tribunals.  It still preserved something of the solemnity of legal justice, which desires to be enlightened before it condemns.

A military commission would infallibly neglect all legal forms; and summarily condemn and punish the accused parties, as in time of war a spy is tried and punished.

“What!” exclaimed Maurice, “they dare to condemn without investigating, without listening to testimony, without allowing the accused time to prepare any defence?”

The abbe was silent.  This exceeded his most sinister apprehensions.  Now, he believed anything possible.

Maurice spoke of an investigation.  It had commenced that day, and it was still going on by the light of the jailer’s lantern.

That is to say, the Duc de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu were passing the prisoners in review.

They numbered three hundred, and the duke and his companion had decided to summon before the commission thirty of the most dangerous conspirators.

How were they to select them?  By what method could they discover the extent of each prisoner’s guilt?  It would have been difficult for them to explain.

They went from one to another, asking any question that entered their minds, and after the terrified man replied, according as they thought his countenance good or bad, they said to the jailer who accompanied them:  “Keep this one until another time,” or, “This one for to-morrow.”

By daylight, they had thirty names upon their list:  and the names of the Baron d’Escorval and Chanlouineau led all the rest.

Although the unhappy party at the Hotel de France could not suspect this fact, they suffered an agony of fear and dread through the long night which seemed to them eternal.

As soon as day broke, they heard the beating of the reveille at the citadel; the hour when they might commence their efforts anew had come.

The abbe announced that he was going alone to the duke’s house, and that he would find a way to force an entrance.