"Six weeks ago—Lourcine Street."
A tremor ran over George's frame. In alarm he exclaimed:
"Mercy, monsieur!"
"Number seventeen, fourth floor, in the rear."
"Monsieur, I beg of you!"
"Did not a mechanic named Dupont introduce you blindfolded?"
"Monsieur, I can make no answer."
"Five members of a secret society received you. You took the usual pledge. And you were led out again, still blindfolded. Not so?"
"Monsieur," cried George as stupefied as he was terror-stricken at the revelation, and seeking to regain composure. "I do not understand what you are saying—"
"I was, that evening, the chairman of the committee, my brave George."