nd bind his wound. Next
she spread a pallet on the floor, assisted him to it, wrapped him
warmly, and with a kind "Good night!" left him to go to her little
boudoir....

That same night the spadassins were met and disarmed by the gendarmes
who (largely owing to Danton's eloquence) espoused the people's side.
And that is why Monsieur Robespierre, his confrere, was abroad very
early, without fear of assassins, and nosing for news.

"I hear Danton was in a little trouble last night!" gossiped the slick
citizen with his landlady. "The fight was in this very house, was it
not?"

The landlady, it seemed, was ignorant of Danton's refuge. But
Robespierre suspected. He decided to investigate, being a stickler for
propriety. Mounting the stairs stealthily, he knocked at Henriette's
door.

The girl and the man were at their leave-taking. Few words were
spoken. The giant clasped both her little hands in his great paws.

"What you have done for me I shall never forget!" he was saying.

"Oh, if I had a great kind brother like this!" was her sudden
thought.

"Whisht!" she whispered vocally as the knock was heard. Again the
little gesture of warning finger to mouth.

She stole to the keyhole and thought she recognized the habiliments of
her neighbor the dandy. Motioning Danton back out of sight she opened
the door on the crack, closed it as she slipped through, and
encountered the bowing and smirking Robespierre.

"A man escaped from the spadassins here last night-did he find refuge
with you?"

"You are mistaken, Monsieur. I am quite alone."

"May I just see? Very intimate friend of mine, I am sure."

"No, you _may not_!" Henriette quickly reentered, and slammed and
locked the door on the future Dictator of France. 'Twas only a little
door slam, but it re-echoed later, even at the Gates of Death! Rubbing
his long nose Robespierre took snuff.

"Sh-h, he is still there!" whispered the girl to Danton, with another
look through keyhole. Presently steps were heard going downstairs.

"I think he is gone!" she said, verifying her statement by again
opening the door and finding the coast clear.

Danton, with a final good-by, went his way.

The sneak, however, had retraced his downstairs steps with cat-like
tread. In an alcove of the back hall he had found a hiding post.

As Danton's broad back descended down the steps, a vulpine head peered
out of the alcove, and Robespierre's cunning, self-satisfied look
showed that he