"What is the fellow's name?" he asked.
"Sign the paper," she murmured, dropping her eyes. "I implore you, do not ask me his name. Let me fill that in."
"I will free no man from prison unless I know his name," replied Robespierre.
"I will never tell you that," she replied, rising to her feet and going to the other side of the desk, "never."
"What foolish nonsense," he complained, signing his name. "Now," he continued, shaking the sand box over the wet ink, "tell me his name, and I will send this pardon to the conciergerie at once. See, I have written 'immediate release' upon it. You have only to tell me his name. Do you still hesitate?"
There was a sudden rattle in the drawer on Edmé's side of the desk. Leaning forward, she brought one hand down upon the paper, while with the other she pointed a pistol at Robespierre's head.
He turned deadly white and drew back in his chair.
"Would you murder me?" he gasped out.