hich he rattled impatiently, calling to his
friend to come.

"Come, citizen," he said roughly. "I wish to show you the one treasure
in this house which your d--d fingers must not touch."

Mechanically de Batz rose at last. He tried to be master of the terror
which was invading his very bones. He would not own to himself even that
he was afraid, and almost audibly he kept murmuring to himself that he
had no cause for fear.

Heron would never touch him. The spy's avarice, his greed of money were
a perfect safeguard for any man who had the control of millions, and
Heron knew, of course, that he could make of this inveterate plotter
a comfortable source of revenue for himself. Three weeks would soon be
over, and fresh bargains could be made time and again, while de Batz was
alive and free.

Heron was still waiting at the door, even whilst de Batz wondered
what this nocturnal visitation would reveal to him of atrocity and of
outrage. He made a final effort to master his nervousness, wrapped his
cloak tightly around him, and followed his host out of the room.

CHAPTER VII. THE MOST PRECIOUS LIFE IN EUROPE

Once more he was being led through the interminable corridors of the
gigantic building. Once more from the narrow, barred windows close by
him he heard the heart-breaking sighs, the moans, the curses which spoke
of tragedies that he could only guess.

Heron was walking on ahead of him, preceding him by some fifty metres or
so, his long legs covering the distances more rapidly than de Batz could
follow them. The latter knew his way well about the old prison. Few men
in Paris possessed that accurate knowledge of its intricate passages and
its network of cells and halls which de Batz had acquired after close
and persevering study.

He himself could have led Heron to the doors of the tower where the
little Dauphin was being kept imprisoned, but unfortunately he did not
possess the keys that would open all the doors which led to it. There
were sentinels at every gate, groups of soldiers at each end of every
corridor, the great--now empty--courtyards, thronged with prisoners in
the daytime, were alive with soldiery even now. Some walked up and
down with fixed bayonet on shoulder, others sat in groups on the stone
copings or squatted on the ground, smoking or playing cards, but all of
them were alert and watchful.

Heron was recognised everywhere the moment he appeared, and though in
these days of equality no one pr