ferently.

"Our men seized the jewels and gold, that is all. We don't know yet what
we mean to do with the priest. The fisherfolk of Boulogne like him, and
we can lay our hands on him at any time, if we want his old head for
the guillotine. But the jewels were worth having. There's a historic
necklace worth half a million at least."

"Could I have it?" asked Chauvelin.

Robespierre laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"You said it belonged to the Marny family," continued the ex-ambassador.
"Juliette Marny is in England. I might meet her. I cannot tell what may
happen: but I feel that the historic necklace might prove useful. Just
as you please," he added with renewed indifference. "It was a thought
that flashed through my mind when you spoke--nothing more."

"And to show you how thoroughly the government trusts you, Citizen
Chauvelin," replied Robespierre with perfect urbanity, "I will myself
direct that the Marny necklace be placed unreservedly in your hands; and
a sum of fifty thousand francs for your expenses in England. You see,"
he added blandly, "we give you no excuse for a second failure."

"I need none," retorted Chauvelin drily, as he finally rose from his
seat, with a sigh of satisfaction that this interview was ended at last.

But Robespierre too had risen, and pushing his chair aside he took
a step or two towards Chauvelin. He was a much taller man than the
ex-ambassador. Spare and gaunt, he had a very upright bearing, and
in the uncertain light of the candle he seemed to tower strangely
and weirdly above the other man: the pale hue of his coat, his
light-coloured hair, the whiteness of his linen, all helped to give to
his appearance at that moment a curious spectral effect.

Chauvelin somehow felt an unpleasant shiver running down his spine as
Robespierre, perfectly urbane and gentle in his manner, placed a long,
bony hand upon his shoulder.

"Citizen Chauvelin," said the Incorruptible, with some degree of
dignified solemnity, "meseems that we very quickly understood one
another this evening. Your own conscience, no doubt, gave you a
premonition of what the purport of my summons to you would be. You say
that you always hoped the Revolutionary Government would give you one
great chance to redeem your failure of last year. I, for one, always
intended that you should have that chance, for I saw, perhaps, just
a little deeper into your heart than my colleagues. I saw not only
enthusiasm for the cause