apartment, others preparing for a bold attempt to force
their passage through the armed followers of the commissary.

Every avenue of escape had been already occupied by the gendarmes; and
the discomfited gamblers were seen returning into the room crestfallen
and ashamed, when the commissary, followed by a knot of others in plain
clothes, advancing into the middle of the chamber, pronounced the legal
form of arrest on all present.

"I am a peer of France," said the Duc de Marsac, haughtily. "I yield to
no authority that does not carry the signature of my sovereign."

"You are free, Monsieur le Duc," said the commissary, bowing
respectfully.

"I am an English gentleman," said Linton, stepping forward. "I demand by
what right you presume to detain me in custody?"

"What is your name, sir?" asked the commissary.

"Linton!" was the brief reply.

"That's the man," whispered a voice from behind the commissary; and, at
the same instant, that functionary approached, and laying his hand on
the other's shoulder, said,--

"I arrest you, sir, on the charge of murder."

"Murder!" repeated Linton, with a sneer that he could not merge into a
laugh. "This is a sorry jest, sir."

"You will find it sad earnest!" said a deep voice.

Linton turned round, and straight in front of him stood Roland Cashel,
who, with bent brows and compressed lips, seemed struggling to repress
the passion that worked within him.

"I say, Frobisher, are you omitted in the indictment?" cried Linton,
with a sickly attempt to laugh; "or has our buccaneering friend
forgotten to stigmatize you for the folly of having known him?"

"He is in _my_ custody," said a gruff English voice, in reply to some
observation of the commissary; and a short, stout-built man made a
gesture to another in the crowd to advance.

[Illustration: 422]

"What! is this indignity to be put upon me?" said Linton, as he saw the
handcuffs produced, and prepared to be adjusted to his wrists. "Is the
false accusation of a pirate and a slaver to expose me to the treatment
of a convicted felon?"

"I will do my duty, sir," said the police officer, steadily. "If I do
more, my superiors can hear of it. Tom, put on the irons."

"Is this your vengeance, sir?" said Linton, as he cast a look of
ineffable hate towards Cashel; but Roland made no reply, as he stood
regarding the scene with an air of saddest meaning.

"You knew him better than I did, Charley," said Linton, sneeringly,
"w