They seemed to be in an empty room embracing the entire unfinished garret of a house, gable to gable. The space was all roof and floor,—that is, the roof rose abruptly from the floor on two sides to the comb above.
As the eye became accustomed to the place, it first took in the small square boxes, some of which had evidently been unpacked or prepared for that process, the litter being scattered about the floor,—the boxes similar to those stored in the dark room below. There were roughly constructed platforms beneath all of the windows, with steps leading up to the same. Beneath these platforms and along the whole of one side of the room were wooden arm-racks glistening with arms of the latest model. Belts, cartridge-boxes, bayonets, swords, an immense assortment of military paraphernalia, lay piled on the floor at one end of the room.
At the opposite end was mounted on a swivel a one-pound Maxim rapid-firer, the wall in front of it being pierced to the last brick.
A few blows, and lo! the muzzle of the modern death-dealer!
Along the lower edge of the roof towards the Panthéon might have been found numerous similar places, requiring only a thrust to become loopholes for prostrate riflemen.
The most cursory glance from the windows above showed that these commanded the Place du Panthéon and Rue Soufflot,—the scene of bloody street battles of every revolutionary epoch.
Fifty active men from this vantage could have rendered either street or barricade untenable, or as support to a barricade in the Place du Panthéon have made such a barricade impregnable to exposed troops.
"It is admirable!" cried Jean, lost in contemplation of the strategic importance of the position.
"It is wonderful, but——"
"Artillery? Yes," he interrupted, anticipating her reasoning; "but artillery could not be elevated to command this place from the street, and as for Mont Valérien——"