rifles with bayonets and shoulder-straps complete.--Antoine Lerac.'"

He folded the paper again and carefully tore it into very small pieces.

"Thank you," he said gravely.

Then he turned in his chair and threw the papers into the ash-tray of
the little iron stove behind him.

"I judged it best to be strictly business-like," said the butcher, with
moderately well-simulated carelessness.

"But yes, Monsieur Lerac," with a shrug. "We of the Republic distrust
each other so completely."

The old gentleman looked from one to the other with a soothing smile.

"The brave Lerac," he said, "is a man of business."

Citizen Morot ignored this observation.

"And," he said, turning to Lerac, "you have them stored in a safe place?
There is absolutely no doubt of that?"

"Absolutely none."

"Good."

"They are under my own eye."