a chain round his middle sat and shivered. He was no
taller than a five-year-old child. His livid face, his wrinkled brow,
his thin lips were all expressive of mortal sadness. He fixed on the
visitor the still lively gaze of his yellow eyes. Then with his small
dry hand he seized a carrot, put it to his mouth, and forthwith flung it
away. Having looked at the newcomers for a moment, the exile turned away
his head, as if he expected nothing further of mankind or of life.
Sitting huddled up, one knee in his hand, he made no further movement,
but at times a dry cough shook his breast.

"It's Edgar," said the small girl. "He is for sale, you know."

But the old book-lover, who had come armed with anger and resentment,
thinking to find a cynical enemy, a monster of malice, an
antibibliophile, stopped short, surprised, saddened, and overcome,
before this little being devoid of strength and joy and hope.

Recognising his mistake, troubled by the almost human face which sorrow
and suffering made more human still, he murmured "Forgive me" and bowed
his head.

CHAPTER IV

WHICH IN ITS FORCEFUL BREVITY PROJECTS US TO THE LIMITS OF
THE ACTUAL WORLD

Two months elapsed; the domestic upheaval did not subside, and Monsieur
Sariette's thoughts turned to the Freemasons. The papers he read were
full of their crimes. Abbe Patouille deemed them capable of the darkest
deeds, and believed them to be in league with the Jews and meditating
the total overthrow of Christendom.

Having now arrived at the acme of power, they wielded a dominating
influence in all the principal departments of State, they ruled the
Chambers, there were five of them in the Ministry, and they filled the
Elysee. Having some time since assassinated a President of the Republic
because he was a patriot, they were getting rid of the accomplices and
witnesses of their execrable crime. Few days passed without Paris being
terror-stricken at some mysterious murder hatched in their Lodges. These
were facts concerning which no doubt was possible. By what means did
they gain access to the library? Monsieur Sariette could not imagine.
What task had they come to fulfil? Why did they attack sacred antiquity
and the origins of the Church? What impious designs were they forming? A
heavy shadow hung over these terrible undertakings. The Catholic
archivist feeling himself under the eye of the sons of Hiram was
terrified and fell ill.

Scarcely had he recovere