Name of a name! but 'twas only hate that could give such powers to any
man!

Hebert, in the guard-room, owned to his doubts. His comrades, too,
admitted that after twenty-four hours spent on the watch, their minds
were in a whirl. The Citizen Commissary had been so sure--so was the
chief concierge of the Abbaye even now; and the men of the Surete! ...
they themselves had seen the real Mole more than once ... and this man
in the cell. ... Well, would the citizen Representative have a final
good look at him?

"You seem to forget Calais, citizen Hebert," Chauvelin said sharply,
"and the deadly humiliation you suffered then at the hands of this man
who is now your prisoner. Surely your eyes should have been, at least,
as keen as mine own."

Anxious, irritable, his nerves well-nigh on the rack, he nevertheless
crossed the guard-room with a firm step and entered the cell where the
prisoner was still lying upon the palliasse, as he had been all along,
and still presenting that naked piece of shoulder through the hole in
his shirt.

"He has been like this the best part of the day," Hebert said with a
shrug of the shoulders. "We put his bread and water right under his
nose. He ate and he drank, and I suppose he slept. But except for a good
deal of swearing, he has not spoken to any of us."

He had followed his chief into the cell, and now stood beside the
palliasse, holding a small dark lantern in his hand. At a sign from