"The receipt of Richard, the jailer of the Conciergerie!" cried Maurice.
"She has been there these two hours." This time Maurice remained deep in thought.
"The Commune, as you know," continued the president, "acts with profound judgment. It is digging a furrow long and straight in its course; its measures are not puerile, and it has put in execution the principle of Cromwell,—'Kings should be struck on the head.' Read this secret note from the minister of police."
Maurice read,—
"Seeing that we possess the certainty that the ci-devant Chevalier de Maison-Rouge is in Paris; that he has been seen in several places; that he has left traces of his appearance in various plots, happily frustrated,—I request all chiefs of sections to redouble their vigilance—"
"Well?" asked the president.
"I must believe you, Citizen President," said Maurice, and he continued,—
"Description of the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge: In height, five feet three inches; fair hair, blue eyes, straight nose, chestnut-colored beard, dimpled chin, soft voice, and hands like a female's."
At this description a strange light burst upon Maurice; he thought of the young man who commanded the troop of Muscadins, and who on the preceding evening saved the lives of himself and Lorin, and so valiantly drew his sword upon the Marseillais in their defence.