"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