umstances affecting not Trudaine only, but
his sister as well, the undersigned regrets his inability, thus far, to
offer either explanation or suggestion. At this preliminary stage, the
affair seems involved in impenetrable mystery."

Lomaque read these lines through, down to his own signature at the end.
They were the duplicate Secret Instructions demanded from him in the
paper which he had been looking over before the entrance of the two
police agents. Slowly, and, as it seemed, unwillingly, he folded the
note up in a fresh sheet of paper, and was preparing to seal it when a
tap at the door stopped him. "Come in," he cried, irritably; and a man
in traveling costume, covered with dust, entered, quietly whispered
a word or two in his ear, and then went out. Lomaque started at the
whisper, and, opening his note again, hastily wrote under his signature:
"I have just heard that Danville has hastened his return to Paris, and
may be expected back to-night." Having traced these lines, he closed,
sealed, and directed the letter, and gave it to Magloire. The police
agent looked at the address as he left the room; it was "To Citizen
Robespierre, Rue Saint-Honore."

Left alone again, Lomaque rose, and walked restlessly backward and
forward, biting his nails.

"Danville comes back to-night," he said to himself, "and the crisis
comes with him. Trudaine a conspirator! Bah! conspiracy can hardly be
the answer to the riddle this time. What is?"

He took a turn or two in silence--then stopped at the open window,
looking out on what little glimpse the street afforded him of the sunset
sky. "This time five years," he said, "Trudaine was talking to me on
that bench overlooking the river; and Sister Rose was keeping poor
hatchet-faced old Lomaque's cup of coffee hot for him! Now I am
officially bound to suspect them both; perhaps to arrest them;
perhaps--I wish this job had fallen into other hands. I don't want it--I
don't want it at any price!"

He returned to the writing-table and sat down to his papers, with the
dogged air of a man determined to drive away vexing thoughts by dint
of sheer hard work. For more than an hour he labored on resolutely,
munching a bit of dry bread from time to time. Then he paused a little,
and began to think again. Gradually the summer twilight faded, and the
room grew dark.

"Perhaps we shall tide over to-night, after all--who knows?" said
Lomaque, ringing his handbell for lights. They were brought in