a raised box behind, in which were placed the despatches. Only one
place, by the side of the courier, was reserved for travellers, and
that was obtained with difficulty. On the night in question this seat
was occupied by a man of about thirty, who had that morning taken it for
Lyons, under the name of Laborde, a silk-merchant; his real name was
Durochat; his object may be guessed.

At nine o'clock, the carriage having descended a declivity with great
speed, now slackened its course to mount a steep hill which faced it; at
this moment four horsemen bounded into the road--two of them seizing the
horses' heads, the two other attacked the postilion, who fell lifeless
at their feet, his skull split open by a sabre-cut. At the same
instant--before he had time to utter a word--the wretched courier was
stabbed to the heart by the false Laborde, who sat beside him. They
ransacked the mail of a sum of seventy-five thousand francs (L.3000) in
money, _assignats_, and bank-notes. They then took the postilion's horse
from the chaise, and Durochat mounting it, they galloped to Paris, which
they entered between four and five in the morning by the Barrier de
Rambouillet.


IV.--THE ARREST.


This double murder, committed with such audacity on the most frequented
route of France, could not but produce an immense sensation, even at
that epoch so fertile in brigandage of every sort, where the exploits of
_la Chouannerie_, and the ferocious expeditions of the _Chauffeurs_,[8]
daily filled them with alarm. The police were at once in pursuit. The
post-horse ridden by Durochat, and abandoned by him on the Boulevard,