on the last
night before the execution to the old-iron shop, dismayed and ferocious.
Her vanity was deeply hurt by the failure of her plan. In the back of
the shop, among piles of horse-shoes, locks, spikes, and bars, a meeting
of the Big Bench of the Galley-on-land was held to decide the course to
be taken. The yellow light of the dip threw their shadows into the
recesses and shed its flicker on their faces. Gougeon sat picking at the
candle-grease in his apathetic way. Hache cheerfully threw himself on a
long box. The Admiral stood wrapped in his cloak, melodramatic as usual.

Femme Gougeon pushed into the centre.

"Men, or whatever you call yourselves," she hissed, throwing her grimy
arm into the air, "will you let la Tour, Bec, and Caron die like dogs?"
and her deep-set eyes scintillated from one to the other.

A sullen silence ensued.

Finding no reply, she rushed to the window-sill at the rear and took
down an assortment of pike-heads and stilletti, with which were a couple
of pistols. She thrust a dirk or pike-head into the hand of each, but to
the Admiral she gave one of the pistols; the other she kept.

"There," shrieked she furiously, raising her arm to its full height with
the pistol. "That is what I say about this."

They were still sullen and reluctant.

"What have you done, Motte?" the Admiral said, turning to the beggar of
Versailles.

"I have seen Fouche; he is persuaded an escape is impossible."

"Who is Fouche?"

"A prison guard of the Chatelet, and belongs to our Galley."

"Did you tell him I had the money?"

"He says money in this case is useless; this is not an ordinary
business; the Lieutenant sees to it in person on account of the King's
interest in it; it is robbery from the person of a Prince, and a crime
against the King on his own lands."

"Reasons only too clear," reflected the Admiral. "Where will the
execution be?"

At the mention of the unpleasant word a grimace passed over Hache's
face.

"On the Place de Greve," Gougeon replied, showing a little interest, "at
eight to-morrow."

"How many guards will attend them?"

"Six by the cart, with their officers; and the streets are lined with
the guards of Paris," continued Gougeon.

"You intend a _rescue_? Sacre!" vociferated Wife Gougeon. "I will be
there too; they dare not arrest me. Greencaps, I tell you those
white-gills fear us people, and we could kick their heads about the
streets if we all stood together."

"Death