"The Rue St. Romain!" was the quick answer. "Down with the priest!"
Into the quiet street poured the crowd. Justice was theirs, they argued, the Duke's will was their mandate, yet they went quietly, lest they might be robbed of their prey.
One knocked at the door, but there was no answer. No cassocked figure opened it. A dozen men hammered at it. Still no answer.
"Open it, or we break it down!" was the cry.
The man in the cassock rushed up the stairs calling "Mercier! Mercier!"
"What is it?"
"A crowd is at the door angrily demanding admittance. There is murder in their eyes."
For a moment Mercier stood irresolute at the top of the stairs, while hammering again sounded on the door. He knew nothing of what had happened. He had heard the distant shoutings, but had attributed them to another cause.
"In the name of the Duke, open!" came the shout from the crowd without.
"He has come back!" Mercier exclaimed, and then turning to his companion he went on: "Quick! we can leave by the back way. Few know of it. The Duke is in Vayenne. Find him. Tell him what the crowd is doing. They use his name, but I dare swear he set them to no such task as this. Come! They are breaking the door. Run quickly and inquire as you go. Hundreds will surely know where the Duke is to be found."