tters of this square. The driver could not tell where he
had been that night, not here certainly, but wherever it was he was
minding his own business. He had enough to do to live from day to day,
and had no use for a long memory. He had carried people, men and women,
from one prison to another before this, and took no special interest in
this job. The revolution mattered little to him if he could get
sufficient for his wants. He had a room high up in the Faubourg St.
Antoine, with a wife and child in it, and cared little what heads fell
daily in the Place de la Revolution. He woke from his reverie at the
sound of footsteps. A woman was helped into the coach quickly, a man
following her and closing the door sharply behind him. A second man
climbed to the box beside the driver.

"To the Conciergerie," he said.

The woman in the coach did not speak, but leaned back in the corner. The
man was also silent until they had driven away from the square.

"Listen to me, mademoiselle," he said presently. "We are driving in the
direction of the Conciergerie, but the way will be altered in a few
minutes. My comrade will arrange that. Keep your cloak well round you
and do not speak. You and I will have to walk presently to a safe
retreat already prepared. You must do exactly as you are told or we may
fail. Your escape may be discovered at any moment."

The woman did not answer. She had no idea who her companion was, had
perhaps a doubt in her mind concerning him, but she determined to obey;
indeed, what else could she do?

The man beside the driver was silent, and sat in a somewhat bent
attitude as though he were desirous of attracting no attention, yet his
eyes were keen as the coach went forward at a jogging pace, and if any
passer-by seemed to show any interest in the conveyance he was quick to
note the fact.

"Take the next turning to the left," he said suddenly.

"That is not the way," returned the driver.

"It's my way. We might fall in with a crowd."

"But--"

"To the left," said the man. "I will direct you."

The coach turned into the street indicated, and afterward round this
corner and that at the bidding of the man on the box until the driver
was utterly confused.

"I'm lost, citizen," he said; "and what's more I believe you are, too."

"You'll see directly. Sharp round to the right here."

The driver turned.

"Why, it's as I said, you've lost yourself. This is a blind alley."

Indeed it was, a narrow la