p d'etat_ willingly blended with their crime, "you must
be uncomfortable with those three men in the _fiacre_. You are cramped;
come in with me."

"Let me alone," said the prisoner. "With these three men I am cramped;
with you I should be contaminated."

An escort of infantry was ranged on both sides of the _fiacre_. Colonel
Espinasse called to the coachman, "Drive slowly by the Quai d'Orsay until
you meet a cavalry escort. When the cavalry shall have assumed the
charge, the infantry can come back." They set out.

As the _fiacre_ turned into the Quai d'Orsay a picket of the 7th Lancers
arrived at full speed. It was the escort: the troopers surrounded the
_fiacre_, and the whole galloped off.

No incident occurred during the journey. Here and there, at the noise of
the horses' hoofs, windows were opened and heads put forth; and the
prisoner, who had at length succeeded in lowering a window heard startled
voices saying, "What is the matter?"

The _fiacre_ stopped. "Where are we?" asked M. Baze.

"At Mazas," said a _sergent de ville_.

The Questor was taken to the office of the prison. Just as he entered he
saw Baune and Nadaud being brought out. There was a table in the centre,
at which Commissary Primorin, who had followed the _fiacre_ in his
chariot, had just seated himself. While the Commissary was writing, M.
Baze noticed on the table a paper which was evidently a jail register, on
which were these names, written in the following order: Lamoriciere,
Charras, Cavaignac, Changarnier, Leflo, Thiers, Bedeau, Roger (du Nord),
Chambolle. This was probably the order in which the Representatives had
arrived at the prison.

When Sieur Primorin had finished writing, M. Baze said, "Now, you will be
good enough to receive my protest, and add it to your official report."
"It is not an official report," objected the Commissary, "it is simply an
order for committal." "I intend to write my protest at once," replied M.
Baze. "You will have plenty of time in your cell," remarked a man who
stood by the table. M. Baze turned round. "Who are you?" "I am the
governor of the prison," said the man. "In that case," replied M. Baze,
"I pity you, for you are aware of the crime you are committing." The man
turned pale, and stammered a few unintelligible words.

The Commissary rose from his seat; M. Baze briskly took possession of his
chair, seated himself at the table, and said to Sieur Primorin, "You are
a public officer; I request yo