“You did not tell me,” he said, “that some of you had been here already.”

“We have not been here before,” the sergeant in charge of the little platoon said in reply.  “I do not know what the woman means.”

“Some of your men came about three hours ago,” the woman retorted; “less than an hour after the citizen Representative was here.  I remember that my man and I marvelled how quickly they did come, but they said that they had been on duty at the Barriere du Combat when the citizen arrived, and that he had dispatched them off at once.  They said they had run all the way.  But even so, we thought it was quick work—­”

The words were smothered in her throat in a cry of pain, for, with an almost brutal gesture, Chauvelin had seized her by the shoulders.

“Where are those men?” he queried hoarsely.  “Answer!”

“In there, and in there,” the woman stammered, well-nigh faint with terror as she pointed to two doors, one on each side of the passage.  “Three in each room.  They are asleep now, I should say, as they seem so quiet.  But they were an immense comfort to us, citizen...we were so thankful to have them in the house....”

But Chauvelin had snatched the candle from her hand.  Holding it high above his head, he strode to the door on the right of the passage.  It was ajar.  He pushed it open with a vicious kick.  The room beyond was in total darkness.

“Is anyone here?” he queried sharply.

Nothing but silence answered him.  For a moment he remained there on the threshold, silent and immovable as a figure carved in stone.  He had just a sufficiency of presence of mind and of will power not to drop the candle, to stand there motionless, with his back turned to the woman and to the men who had crowded in, in his wake.  He would not let them see the despair, the rage and grave superstitious fear, which distorted every line of his pallid face.

He did not ask about the child.  He would not trust himself to speak, for he had realised already how completely he had been baffled.  Those abominable English spies had watched their opportunity, had worked on the credulity and the fears of the Leridans and, playing the game at which they and their audacious chief were such unconquerable experts, they had made their way into the house under a clever ruse.

The men of the Surete, not quite understanding the situation, were questioning the Leridans.  The man, too, corroborated his wife’s story.  Their anxiety had been worked upon at the moment that it was most acute.  After the citizen Representative left them, earlier in the evening, they had received another mysterious message which they had been unable to read, but which had greatly increased their alarm.  Then, when the men of the Surete came. ...  Ah! they had no cause to doubt that they were men of the Surete! ... their clothes, their speech, their appearance ... figure to yourself, even their uniforms!  They spoke so nicely, so reassuringly.  The Leridans were so thankful to see them!  Then they made themselves happy in the two rooms below, and for additional safety the Lannoy child was brought down from its attic and put to sleep in the one room with the men of the Surete.