!--and, landlord! bring us lanterns,
torches--arm your people--open the doors!--We must pursue the fugitives;
they cannot escape us; we must have them--alive or dead!"

CHAPTER XV. THE DESPATCHES.

When we read, in the rules of the order of the Jesuits, under the title
De formula scribendi (Institut. 2, 11, p. 125, 129), the development
of the 8th part of the constitutions, we are appalled by the number of
letters, narratives, registers, and writings of all kinds, preserved in
the archives of the society.

It is a police infinitely more exact and better informed than has ever
been that of any state. Even the government of Venice found itself
surpassed by the Jesuits: when it drove them out in 1606, it seized
all their papers, and reproached them for their great and laborious
curiosity. This police, this secret inquisition, carried to such
a degree of perfection, may give some idea of the strength of a
government, so well-informed so persevering in its projects, so powerful
by its unity, and, as the constitutions have it, by the union of its
members. It is not hard to understand, what immense force must belong to
the heads of this society, and how the general of the Jesuits could say
to the Duke de Brissac: "From this room, your grace, I govern not only
Paris, but China--not only China, but the whole world--and all without
any one knowing how it is done:" (Constitution of the Jesuits, edited by
Paulin, Paris, 1843.)

Morok, the lion-tamer, seeing Dagobert deprived of his horse, and
stripped of his money and papers, and thinking it was thus out of his
power to continue his journey, had, previous to the arrival of the
burgomaster, despatched Karl to Leipsic, as the bearer of a letter which
he was to put immediately into the post. The address of this letter was
as follows: "A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu des Ursins, Paris."

About the middle of this obscure and solitary street, situate below the
level of the Quai Napoleon, which it joins not far from the Rue Saint
Landry, there stood a house of unpretentious appearance, at the bottom
of a dark and narrow court-yard, separated from the street by a low
building in front, with arched doorway, and two windows protected by
thick iron bars. Nothing could be more simple than the interior of this
quiet dwelling, as was sufficiently shown by the furniture of a pretty
large room on the ground floor. The walls of this apartment were lined
with old gray wainscot; the tiled