fifty aristos to the guillotine.

But to-day all the sergeants in command at the various barricades
had had special orders. Recently a very great number of aristos had
succeeded in escaping out of France and in reaching England safely.
There were curious rumours about these escapes; they had become very
frequent and singularly daring; the people's minds were becoming
strangely excited about it all. Sergeant Grospierre had been sent to
the guillotine for allowing a whole family of aristos to slip out of the
North Gate under his very nose.

It was asserted that these escapes were organised by a band of
Englishmen, whose daring seemed to be unparalleled, and who, from sheer
desire to meddle in what did not concern them, spent their spare time in
snatching away lawful victims destined for Madame la Guillotine. These
rumours soon grew in extravagance; there was no doubt that this band of
meddlesome Englishmen did exist; moreover, they seemed to be under
the leadership of a man whose pluck and audacity were almost fabulous.
Strange stories were afloat of how he and those aristos whom he rescued
became suddenly invisible as they reached the barricades and escaped out
of the gates by sheer supernatural agency.

No one had seen these mysterious Englishmen; as for their leader, he
was never spoken of, save with a superstitious shudder. Citoyen
Foucquier-Tinville would in the course of the day receive a scrap of
paper from some mysterious source; sometimes he would find it in the
pocket of his coat, at others it would be handed to him by someone in
the crowd, whilst he was on his way to the sitting of the Committee of
Public Safety. The paper always contained a brief notice that the band
of meddlesome Englishmen were at work, and it was always signed with a