of the soldiers echoed the grim pleasantry of the officer.

I felt in that moment that I was in some measure avenged.

For a moment they looked as if they would throw themselves on the
taunter, but years of their life had schooled them and they remained
still.

'You are but five,' said the commissary; 'where is the sixth?' The
answer came with a grim chuckle.

'He is there!' and the speaker pointed to the bottom of the wardrobe.
'He died last night. You won't find much of him. The burial of the rats
is quick!'

The commissary stooped and looked in. Then he turned to the officer and
said calmly:

'We may as well go back. No trace here now; nothing to prove that man
was the one wounded by your soldiers' bullets! Probably they murdered
him to cover up the trace. See!' again he stooped and placed his hands
on the skeleton. 'The rats work quickly and they are many. These bones
are warm!'

I shuddered, and so did many more of those around me.

'Form!' said the officer, and so in marching order, with the lanterns
swinging in front and the manacled veterans in the midst, with steady
tramp we took ourselves out of the dustheaps and turned backward to the
fortress of Bicêtre.