Well, as my friendly _huissier_ might have said, Time flies, however strong the head-wind; and at length the quarters clanged themselves into that one of them that was the prelude to my most momentous adventure. And immediately thereon (God absolve me for the inconsistency!) a frantic revulsion of feeling set in, so that I would have given all but my chance of escape to postpone the act of it indefinite hours. Now I heard the throb of the seconds with a terror that was like an acute accent to my agony of suspense. It grew--it waxed monstrous and intolerable. I must lose myself in some physical exertion if I would preserve my reason. Suddenly a nightmare thought faced me. What if, when the time came, the cut bars should remain stubborn to my efforts to bend them! What if I had neglected to completely sever either or both, and that, while I madly wrought to remedy my error, the moment should pass and with it the means to my deliverance! Sweating, panting, in a new reaction to the frenzy for liberty, I sprang to the window, gripped the bars, and, with all my force, dragged them towards me. They parted at the cuts and yielded readily. A sideway push to each, and there would freedom gape at me. In the very instant of settling my shoulder to the charge, I was aware of a sound at my cell door--the cautious groping of wards in a lock. With a suppressed gasp I came round, with my back to the tell-tale grating, and stood like a discovered murderer. A lance of dull light split the blackness perpendicularly. “Open again when I tap,” said a little voice--that cracked like thunder in my brain, nevertheless,--and the light closed upon itself. God of all irony!--the little voice--the little dulcet undertone that had cried _patte-pelu_ upon me in the hall of Justice! So the turnkey had miscalculated or had been misinformed, and M. l’Accusateur Public would not postpone the verbal satisfaction of his cupidity to the _Décadi_. _Le limier rencontrait_; I was bayed into a corner, and my wit must measure itself against a double row of teeth. For an instant a mad resentment against Fate for the infernal wantonness of its cruelty blazed up in my breast, so that I could scarce restrain myself from bounding upon my enemy with yells of fury. Then reason--set, contained and determined--was restored to me, and I stood taut as a bowstring and as vicious. A moment or two passed in silence. I could make out a dusky undefined heap by the door. “In the dark all cats are grey.” At length: “Who is there?” I said quietly. The figure advanced a pace or two. “Speak small, my friend,” it said, “as if thou wert the very voice of conscience.” This time there was no doubt. I ground my teeth as I answered: “Of _thy_ conscience, monsieur? Then should I thunder in thy ears like a bursting shell.” “What is this!” said he, taking a backward step.