"No; he lodges here."
"He! go along! Search, and if you find—"
"Here is the denunciation," interrupted the commissary, "it is plain enough;" offering Lorin a paper in vile writing and enigmatical orthography. It stated that every morning the Citizen Lindey, suspected and ordered for arrest, was seen going out of the Citizen Lorin's house. The denunciation was signed "Simon."
"Why," said Lorin, "the cobbler will lose his custom if he follows two trades at the same time,—a spy and boot-mender. He is a Cæsar, this Monsieur Simon," and he burst into a fit of laughter.
"The Citizen Maurice, where is he?" asked the commissary. "We summon you to deliver him up."
"When I tell you he is not here!"
The commissary passed into the chamber adjoining, then ascended to the loft where Lorin's official slept, and at last opened a lower apartment, but found no trace of Maurice. But upon the dining-room table a recently written letter attracted the attention of the commissary. It was from Maurice, who had deposited it there on leaving in the morning without awakening his friend.
"I go to the Tribunal," said Maurice; "take breakfast without me. I shall not return till night."
"Citizens," said Lorin, "however anxious I may feel to obey your commands, I cannot follow you undressed. Allow my official to assist me."
"Aristocrat," said a voice, "do you require assistance to put on your breeches?"