"I left it at the Tuileries, so that it might be carried out during my absence."
"Why did you order out the cannon?"
"Because I set the battalion on the march, and the field-pieces move with the regiment."
"Where is Petion?"
"He was at the palace when I last saw him."
"A prisoner?"
"No; he was strolling about the gardens."
The interrogation was interrupted here by a new member bringing an unsealed letter, of which he asked leave to make communication. Mandat had no need to do more than cast a glance on this note to acknowledge that he was lost; he recognized his own writing. It was his order to the commanding officer at St. John's Arcade, sent at one in the morning, for him to attack in the rear the mob making for the palace, while the battalion on New Bridge attacked it in flank. This order had fallen into the Commune's hands after the dismissal of the soldiers.
The examination was over; for what could be more damning than this letter in any admissions of the accused?
The council decided that Mandat should be imprisoned in the abbey. The tale goes that the chairman of the board, in saying, "Remove the prisoner," made a sweep of the hand, edge downward, like chopping with an ax. As the guillotine was not in use then, it must have been an arranged sign—perhaps by the Invisibles, whose Grand Copt had divined that instrument.