en the victims fell
into the trap: we might easily have invented long conversations, and
episodes which would have brought Derues' profound hypocrisy into
greater relief; but the reader now knows all that we care to show him.
We have purposely lingered in our narration in the endeavour to explain
the perversities of this mysterious organisation; we have over-loaded
it with all the facts which seem to throw any light upon this sombre
character. But now, after these long preparations, the drama opens, the
scenes become rapid and lifelike; events, long impeded, accumulate and
pass quickly before us, the action is connected and hastens to an end.
We shall see Derues like an unwearied Proteus, changing names, costumes,
language, multiplying himself in many forms, scattering deceptions and
lies from one end of France to the other; and finally, after so many
efforts, such prodigies of calculation and activity, end by wrecking
himself against a corpse.

The letter written at Buisson-Souef arrived at Paris the morning of
the 14th of December. In the course of the day an unknown man presented
himself at the hotel where Madame de Lamotte and her son had stayed
before, and inquired what rooms were vacant. There were four, and he
engaged them for a certain Dumoulin, who had arrived that morning from
Bordeaux, and who had passed through Paris in order to meet, at some
little distance, relations who would return with him. A part of the
rent was paid in advance, and it was expressly stipulated that until his
return the rooms should not be let to anyone, as the aforesaid Dumoulin
might return with his family and require them at any moment. The same
person went to other hotels in the neighbourhood and engaged vacant
rooms, sometimes for a stranger he expected, sometimes for friends whom
he could not accommodate himself.

At about three o'clock, the Place de Greve was full of people, thousands
of heads crowded the windows of the surrounding houses. A parricide
was to pay the penalty of his crime--a crime committed under atrocious
circumstances, with an unheard-of refinement of barbarity. The
punishment corresponded to the crime: the wretched man was broken on the
wheel. The most complete and terrible silence prevailed in the multitude
eager for ghastly emotions. Three times already had been heard the heavy
thud of the instrument which broke the victim's limbs, and a loud cry
escaped the sufferer which made all who heard it shudder with h