ry, wild eyes on Armand.

"We have got one of them, then?" he murmured incoherently, babbling like
a drunken man.

"M'yes!" replied Chauvelin lightly; "but it is too late now for a formal
denunciation and arrest. He cannot leave Paris anyhow, and all that your
men need to do is to keep a close look-out on him. But I should send him
home to-night if I were you."

Heron muttered something more, which, however, Armand did not
understand. Chauvelin's words were still ringing in his ear. Was he,
then, to be set free to-night? Free in a measure, of course, since
spies were to be set to watch him--but free, nevertheless? He could not
understand Chauvelin's attitude, and his own self-love was not a little
wounded at the thought that he was of such little account that these men
could afford to give him even this provisional freedom. And, of course,
there was still Jeanne.

"I must, therefore, bid you good-night, citizen," Chauvelin was saying
in his bland, gently ironical manner. "You will be glad to return to
your lodgings. As you see, the chief agent of the Committee of General
Security is too much occupied just now to accept the sacrifice of your
life which you were prepared so generously to offer him."

"I do not understand you, citizen," retorted Armand coldly, "nor do I
desire indulgence at your hands. You have arrested an innocent woman on
the trumped-up charge that she was harbouring me. I came here to-night
to give myself up to justice so that she might be set free."

"But the hour is somewhat late, citizen," rejoined Chauvelin urbanely.
"The lady in whom you take so fervent an interest is no doubt asleep in
her cell at this hour. It would not be fitting to disturb her now.
She might not find shelter before morning, and the weather is quite
exceptionally unpropitious."

"Then, sir," said Armand, a little bewildered, "am I to understand that
if I hold myself at your disposition Mademoiselle Lange will be set free
as early to-morrow morning as may be?"

"No doubt, sir--no doubt," replied Chauvelin with more than his
accustomed blandness; "if you will hold yourself entirely at our
disposition, Mademoiselle Lange will be set free to-morrow. I think
that we can safely promise that, citizen Heron, can we not?" he added,
turning to his colleague.

But Heron, overcome with the stress of emotions, could only murmur
vague, unintelligible words.

"Your word on that, citizen Chauvelin?" asked Armand.

"My word on it a