this room before you are taken to St. Lazare. It will then be sent to
Robespierre, who will keep it, having a copy made of it the moment it is
delivered, for circulation among his colleagues--St. Just, and the
rest. It is my business to make a duplicate of this copy in the first
instance. The duplicate will be compared with the original, and possibly
with the copy, too, either by Robespierre himself, or by some one in
whom he can place implicit trust, and will then be sent to St. Lazare
without passing through my hands again. It will be read in public the
moment it is received, at the grating of the prison, and will afterward
be kept by the jailer, who will refer to it, as he goes round in the
evening with a piece of chalk, to mark the cell doors of the prisoners
destined for the guillotine to-morrow. That duty happens, to-day, to
fall to the hunchback whom you saw speaking to me. He is a confirmed
drinker, and I mean to tempt him with such wine as he rarely tastes.
If--after the reading of the list in public, and before the marking of
the cell doors--I can get him to sit down to the bottle, I will answer
for making him drunk, for getting the list out of his pocket, and for
wiping your names out of it with the prescription you have just written
for me. I shall write all the names, one under another, just irregularly
enough in my duplicate to prevent the interval left by the erasure
from being easily observed. If I succeed in this, your door will not
be marked, and your names will not be called to-morrow morning when the
tumbrils come for the guillotine. In the present confusion of prisoners
pouring in every day for trial, and prisoners pouring out every day for
execution, you will have the best possible chance of security against
awkward inquiries, if you play your cards properly, for a good fortnight
or ten days at least. In that time--"

"Well! well!" cried Trudaine, eagerly.

Lomaque looked toward the tribunal door, and lowered his voice to a
fainter whisper before he continued, "In that time Robespierre's own
head may fall into the sack! France is beginning to sicken under the
Reign of Terror. Frenchmen of the Moderate faction, who have lain
hidden for months in cellars and lofts, are beginning to steal out
and deliberate by twos and threes together, under cover of the night.
Robespierre has not ventured for weeks past to face the Convention
Committee. He only speaks among his own friends at the Jacobins. There
ar