"What is wanted?" exclaimed Tournay sleepily.
"You are to be transferred to the conciergerie, citizen colonel, that is all," was the reply, although the tone implied a deeper meaning.
Tournay sprang from the bed, wide enough awake now, and with a sickening feeling at his heart. He looked at St. Hilaire, who was lying upon his own pallet outwardly indifferent to the announcement, but whose fingers silently stole under the mattress and closed upon the file that had been placed there the night before. St. Hilaire continued to lie there motionless, feigning sleep; but his alert brain was busy with the problem as to where it would be possible for him to deftly and successfully hide the useful little tool in case the guards had also come to search their cell.
"Are you ready, citizen colonel?"
Tournay gave a quick glance at their window. St. Hilaire rose to a sitting posture.
"Citizen colonel," he said, "will you take my hand at parting?"
Tournay stepped to his bedside. Outwardly calm, the two prisoners clasped hands. Tournay felt the hard substance of steel against his palm.
Giving no sign of his surprise, he shook his head sadly. "It is useless," he said.
"Good-by, citizen colonel," said St. Hilaire carelessly, as one might bid adieu to a chance acquaintance. "I am thinner than you, and I may grow still more so if they keep me here many days longer." He gave an imperceptible glance of the eye in the direction of the window.
The colonel turned away while the file slid up his coat sleeve.