"Heron?" said the younger man interrogatively.

"Yes. He is chief agent to the Committee of General Security
now."

"What does that mean?"

Both leaned back in their chairs, and their sombrely-clad figures
were once more merged in the gloom of the narrow box. Instinctively,
since the name of the Public Prosecutor had been mentioned between
them, they had allowed their voices to sink to a whisper.

The older man--a stoutish, florid-looking individual, with small,
keen eyes, and skin pitted with small-pox--shrugged his shoulders
at his friend's question, and then said with an air of
contemptuous indifference:

"It means, my good St. Just, that these two men whom you see down
there, calmly conning the programme of this evening's entertainment,
and preparing to enjoy themselves to-night in the company of the late
M. de Moliere, are two hell-hounds as powerful as they are cunning."

"Yes, yes," said St. Just, and much against his will a slight
shudder ran through his slim figure as he spoke. "Foucquier-Tinville
I know; I know his cunning, and I know his power--but the other?"

"The other?" retorted de Batz lightly. "Heron? Let me tell you,
my friend, that even the might and lust of that damned Public
Prosecutor pale before the power of Heron!"