d some other members of the committee
entirely devoted to Carrier. From these the Marats received their formal
instructions.

"Plague," Goullin informed them, "is raging in the gaols, and its
ravages must be arrested. You will therefore proceed this evening to the
prison of Le Bouffay in order to take over the prisoners whom you will
march up to the Quay La Fosse, whence they will be shipped to Belle
Isle."

In a cell of that sordid old building known as Le Bouffay lay a
cocassier, an egg and poultry dealer, arrested some three years before
upon a charge of having stolen a horse, and since forgotten. His own
version was that a person of whom he knew very little had entrusted
him with the sale of the stolen animal in possession of which he was
discovered.

The story sounds familiar; it is the sort of story that must have done
duty many times; and it is probable that the cocassier was no better
than he should have been. Nevertheless Fate selected him to be one of
her unconscious instruments. His name was Leroy, and we have his own
word for it that he was a staunch patriot. The horse business was
certainly in the best vein of sans-culottism.

Leroy was awakened about ten o'clock that night by sounds that were very
unusual in that sombre, sepulchral prison. They were sounds of unbridled
revelry--snatches of ribald song, bursts of coarse, reverberating
laughter and they proceeded, as it seemed to him, from the courtyard and
the porter's lodge.

He crawled from the dank straw which served him for a bed, and
approached the door to listen. Clearly the porter Laqueze was
entertaining friends and making unusually merry. It was also to be
gathered that Laqueze's friends were getting very drunk. What the devil
did it mean?

His curiosity was soon to be very fully gratified. Came heavy steps up
the stone staircase, the clatter of sabots, the clank of weapons, and
through the grille of his door an increasing light began to beat.

Some one was singing the "Carmagnole" in drunken, discordant tones.
Keys rattled, bolts were drawn; doors were being flung open. The noise
increased. Above the general din he heard the detestable voice of the
turnkey.

"Come and see my birds in their cages. Come and see my pretty birds."

Leroy began to have an uneasy premonition that the merrymaking portended
sinister things.

"Get up, all of you!" bawled the turnkey. "Up and pack your traps.
You're to go on a voyage. No laggards, now. Up wi