"His name?"
"Dixmer."
"You are right, Lorin," said Maurice, by a violent effort controlling his emotion; "I will go with you."
"And you do well; are you armed?"
"I always carry my sword."
"Take also this pair of pistols."
"And you?"
"I have my gun. Carry arms! Shoulder arms! Forward! March!"
The patrol commenced its march, accompanied by Maurice, who walked near Lorin. They were preceded by a man dressed in gray, who directed their movements. This was an agent of police.
From time to time a shadow might be seen emerging from the angles of the streets or the doors of the houses, who exchanged some words with the man in gray. This was the inspector. On arriving at the little street, the man in gray did not hesitate for an instant. He was well instructed, and entered the street at once. Before the door of the garden where Maurice had been so nearly garroted, he stopped.