olice agents in plain
clothes. As Prefect Maupas had told M. Bonaparte, the Captain of the
Republican Guard, Baudinet, was associated with Commissary Lerat in the
arrest of General Changarnier.

Towards half-past five the _fiacres_ which were in waiting were called
up, and all started, each with his instructions.

During this time, in another corner of Paris--the old Rue du Temple--in
that ancient Soubise Mansion which had been transformed into a Royal
Printing Office, and is to-day a National Printing Office, another
section of the Crime was being organized.

Towards one in the morning a passer-by who had reached the old Rue du
Temple by the Rue de Vieilles-Haudriettes, noticed at the junction of
these two streets several long and high windows brilliantly lighted up,
These were the windows of the work-rooms of the National Printing Office.
He turned to the right and entered the old Rue du Temple, and a moment
afterwards paused before the crescent-shaped entrance of the front of the
printing-office. The principal door was shut, two sentinels guarded the
side door. Through this little door, which was ajar, he glanced into the
courtyard of the printing-office, and saw it filled with soldiers. The
soldiers were silent, no sound could be heard, but the glistening of
their bayonets could be seen. The passer-by surprised, drew nearer. One
of the sentinels thrust him rudely back, crying out, "Be off."

Like the _sergents de ville_ at the Prefecture of Police, the workmen had
been retained at the National Printing Office under plea of night-work.
At the same time that M. Hippolyte Prevost returned to the Legislative
Palace, the manager of the National Printing Office re-entered his
office, also returning from the Opera Comique, where he had been to see
the new piece, which was by his brother, M. de St. Georges. Immediately
on his return the manager, to whom had come an order from the Elysee
during the day, took up a pair of pocket pistols, and went down into the
vestibule, which communicates by means of a few steps with the courtyard.
Shortly afterwards the door leading to the street opened, a _fiacre_
entered, a man who carried a large portfolio alighted. The manager went
up to the man, and said to him, "Is that you, Monsieur de Beville?"

"Yes," answered the man.

The _fiacre_ was put up, the horses placed in a stable, and the coachman
shut up in a parlor, where they gave him drink, and placed a purse in his
hand. Bottl