was going to betray, but because he was aghast
at the idea of leading the detectives over a road that he had traversed
only at night, and that he feared he might not remember. The expedition
set out on February 3d. Real had taken the precaution to have an escort
of gendarmes for the prisoner whom Georges and his followers might try
to rescue. The detachment was commanded by a zealous and intelligent
officer, Lieutenant Manginot, assisted by a giant called Pasque, an
astute man celebrated for the sureness of his attack. They left Paris at
dawn by the Saint-Denis gate and took the road to l'Isle-Adam.

The first day's search was without result. Querelle thought he
remembered that a house in the village of Taverny had sheltered the
Chouans the night before their entry into Paris; but at the time he had
not paid any attention to localities, and in spite of his efforts, he
could be positive of nothing. The next day they took the Pontoise road
from Pierrelaye to Franconville,--with no more success. They returned
towards Taverny by Ermont, le Plessis-Bouchard and the Chateau de
Boissy. Querelle, who knew that his life was at stake, showed a feverish
eagerness which was not shared by Pasque nor Manginot, who were now
fully persuaded that the prisoner had only wanted to gain time, or some
chance of escape. They thought of abandoning the search and returning to
Paris, but Querelle begged so vehemently for twenty-four hours' reprieve
that Manginot weakened. The third day, therefore, they explored the
environs of Taverny and the borders of the forest as far as Bessancourt.
Querelle now led them by chance, thinking he recognised a group of
trees, a turn of the road, even imagining he had found a farm "by the
particular manner in which the dog barked."

At last, worn out, the little band were returning to Paris when, on
passing through the village of Saint-Leu, Querelle gave a triumphant
cry! He had just recognised the long-looked for house, and he gave so
exact a description of it and its inhabitants that Pasque did not
hesitate to interrogate the proprietor, a vine-dresser named Denis
Lamotte. He laid great stress on the fact that he had a son in the
service of an officer of the Consul's guard; his other son, Vincent
Lamotte, lived with him. The worthy man appeared very much surprised at
the invasion of his house, but his peasant cunning could not long
withstand the professional cleverness of the detective, and after a few
minute