Combat in order to interview the Commissary of the Section on the matter
of sending men to watch over the Leridans' house. Then, when he felt
satisfied that this would be effectively and quickly done, an
unconquerable feeling of restlessness prompted him to hurry round to the
lodgings of the Public Prosecutor in the Rue Blanche--just to see him,
to speak with him, to make quite sure.

Oh! he must be sure that no doubts, no pusillanimity on the part of any
official would be allowed to stand in the way of the consummation of all
his most cherished dreams. Papers or no papers, testimony or no
testimony, the incarcerated Paul Mole was the Scarlet Pimpernel--of this
Chauvelin was as certain as that he was alive. His every sense had
testified to it when he stood in the narrow room of the Rue des
Cordeliers, face to face--eyes gazing into eyes--with his sworn enemy.

Unluckily, however, he found the Public Prosecutor in a surly and
obstinate mood, following on an interview which he had just had with
citizen Commissary Cuisinier on the matter of the prisoner Paul Mole.

"His papers are all in order, I tell you," he said impatiently, in
answer to Chauvelin's insistence. "It is as much as my head is worth to
demand a summary execution."

"But I tell you that, those papers of his are forged," urged Chauvelin
forcefully.

"They are not," retorted the other. "The Commissary swears to his own
signature on the identity book. The concierge at the Abbaye swears that
he knows Mole, so do all the men of the Surete who have seen him. The
Commissary has known him as an indigent, good-for-nothing lubbard who