hery. Cochefer is aware of his own danger,
and Lasniere and the others know that they arrived at the Tower several
hours too late. They are all at fault, and they know it. As for that de
Batz," he continued with a voice rendered raucous with bitter passion,
"I swore to him two days ago that he should not escape me if he meddled
with Capet. I'm on his track already. I'll have him before the hour
of midnight, and I'll torture him--yes! I'll torture him--the Tribunal
shall give me leave. We have a dark cell down below here where my men
know how to apply tortures worse than the rack--where they know just how
to prolong life long enough to make it unendurable. I'll torture him!
I'll torture him!"

But Chauvelin abruptly silenced the wretch with a curt command; then,
without another word, he walked straight out of the room.

In thought Armand followed him. The wild desire was suddenly born in him
to run away at this moment, while Heron, wrapped in his own meditations,
was paying no heed to him. Chauvelin's footsteps had long ago died away
in the distance; it was a long way to the upper floor of the Tower, and
some time would be spent, too, in interrogating the commissaries. This
was Armand's opportunity. After all, if he were free himself he might
more effectually help to rescue Jeanne. He knew, too, now where to join
his leader. The corner of the street by the canal, where Sir Andrew
Ffoulkes would be waiting with the coal-cart; then there was the spinney
on the road to St. Germain. Armand hoped that, with good luck, he might
yet overtake his comrades, tell them of Jeanne's plight, and entreat
them to work for her rescue.

He had forgotten that now he had no certificate of safety, that
undoubtedly he would be stopped at the gates at this hour of the
night; that his conduct proving suspect he would in all probability he
detained, and, mayhap, be brought back to this self-same place within an
hour. He had forgotten all that, for the primeval instinct for freedom
had suddenly been aroused. He rose softly from his chair and crossed
the room. Heron paid no attention to him. Now he had traversed the
antechamber and unlatched the outer door.

Immediately a couple of bayonets were crossed in front of him, two more
further on ahead scintillated feebly in the flickering light. Chauvelin
had taken his precautions. There was no doubt that Armand St. Just was
effectually a prisoner now.

With a sigh of disappointment he went back to