primitive
resources of rustic wardrobe. As he emerged again from the cavern, old
boon companions would indeed have been startled by the guise he now
wore.

Beautiful apparel, cane, wig, lorgnette and snuffbox were in the
discard. The frizzled locks were gone, revealing long straight black
hair which was crowned by a shabby tricorne hat. The Chevalier's
elegant form was covered by an ill-fitting ragged black suit, which a
pair of dusty shoes well matched. Across one shoulder he carried a
pack stick, to which a thoroughly disreputable-looking small black
bundle was fastened.

"You'll do now," said the rustic. "Remember you're only a helper on a
carter's journey to Paris."

Rustic and helper took their leave of the go-between by plunging
through a wide but shallow stream. When they had emerged at the
farther bank, they felt secure that their steps could not be traced.
Waving good-byes to the other, the rustic and his man hastened to a
stable where they loaded a provision wagon and attached a country
Dobbin to the thills. Presently de Vaudrey, in his new character of
the carter's assistant, was on the first stage of the long journey to
the storm-wracked metropolis.

The carter's load was of so little value, the whole outfit so
poverty-stricken, that neither country Royalist nor provincial
Revolutionary saw fit to bother them.

Gradually the carter sold his wares in the smaller villages en route.
They wisely avoided the larger towns. The cart was nearly empty now.
Saleables had all been disposed of except a few apples.

"How are you and I going to get into Paris?" said the distinguished
young aristocrat, whose respect for the Reuben had increased daily.

"Trust me!" said the other. His broad, moon-faced physiognomy masked
the cunning of the fox. "I have this apple here--"

The carter eyed his assistant intently and winked solemnly as if to
say: "That will do the trick!"

As they leave the open country behind and jog through the better
settled regions immediately north of Paris, let us take our stand
beside the "barrier" or outer gate which they are slowly approaching.

Judge Forget-Not and his fellows are inspecting the barriers. The
voice of the Chief is heard speaking.

"Watch strictly that no aristocrats escape. Our new _law_ also
condemns to death all who harbor an aristocrat."

The Inquisitor's face assumes a yet harsher expression as he addresses
the guards: "Beware lest you yourselves be suspect!--Rem