"Separate fiddlesticks!" shouted Dennis Deventer. "Does he mean such comfortable old soup-bags as Pere Felix, or wine-skins like Pipe-en-Bois, or alcohol gutters like the Marshal Soult? Let him set his mind at rest. They are safe. No Government while I live shall harm a hair of their heads. They will never stand behind a barricade--never fire a shot; if they will be careful not to fall downstairs after celebration suppers to the memory of Danton and Marat and the men of '48, they will all die in their beds and have their memories honoured in turn by the suppers of another and redder generation!" There was truth in what Dennis said. These were not the men who would die fighting when the day of reckoning came. The young sullen wolf's breed of the sidelong glances and the whispered counsels--these were those who would line the last ditches of the defence of Aramon. But, then, Keller Bey felt that he was responsible also for them. He was their chief and normal leader. He had the secrets of the Internationale and he had made proselytes, even among the young people. Could he leave them and flee? I knew very well Keller Bey's line of argument, and I put it to Dennis. He clapped his knee testily. "Oh, for a good Scots or Ulster head on a man--even English would do because of the fine, solid underpinning and bodygear the Lord God puts into his southern-built vessels. But when a man gets this megrim of honour in his brain, there is no saying beforehand what he will or will not do--except that it will surely be eediocy." "It's a pity, too," he added, after thought, "a man that can be talking the Arab or the Turkish with men like your father (God bless him) and old Professor Renard." I suggested that there was one factor we were overlooking--that it was more than likely that before long the Conservative Commune of Aramon would be displaced and with it would disappear the rule of Keller. No, I did not think they would kill him. They would probably expel the ex-Dictator and let him go where he would. Then would be the time to secure him, and send him to the captain of the Huelva cargo-boat. Dennis patted me on the head. "We cannot be sure of doing much," he said, "but we can always have a try. We shall probably be desperately busy ourselves if the wild rakes take the lead over the wall yonder. They will come at us, not this time in undisciplined rush, but with method and well armed--thanks to the folly of the National Assembly." Still, Dennis Deventer had a card up his sleeve. "You must wait with us and see the rubber played out." CHAPTER XXX DEVILS' TALK The black day which was coming upon Aramon was not long in dawning. Barres and Imbert were the leaders of the anarchist party, which had always secretly opposed the Marxian communism of Keller Bey and his adherents.