“Number 32,” he repeated to himself, and they went down a dirty ill-lit corridor, with rows of doors either side. But, to Gilbert’s astonishment, the door of 32, when they reached it, stood ajar, affording him a glimpse of the narrow abode for which his kinsman had exchanged his own apartments. A horrible thought suddenly visited him that they had been fooling him at the bureau, that Louis had already been transferred, tried, murdered, he knew not what. . . . “Where is he?” he demanded harshly. The jailor, turning on his heel, responded with an oath, and began to retrace his steps, asseverating that if he had known he was coming all this —— way for nothing after a —— _aristo_, some one else could have had the job. However, he seemed to have an objective in view, and Gilbert followed him mutely downstairs again. Half-way along a corridor he stopped, motioned to the Marquis to stay where he was, and disappeared round a corner. He seemed to be gone long. The lamp above Gilbert’s head stank villainously; the horrible oppression of the place entered his soul and joined forces with the oppression already seated there. Echoing steps came nearer, and Louis, with his head held high, walked down the corridor, alone. He was on the Marquis before he saw who it was. “Good God! not you as well!” he exclaimed, stopping short with a catch of the breath. The sound of the familiar, careless voice, pierced with an unfamiliar note of apprehension, swept everything else out of Gilbert’s mind. “My dear boy—no!” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “No—you are free! Did they not tell you?” “Free!” exclaimed Louis, bewildered. “I thought—— But how the devil——” The Marquis put a finger on his lips as the _guichetier_ came up, swinging his keys. “Little surprise for you, _ci-devant_, isn't it?” observed that worthy. “I might have told you, hein? But I like my little joke. Come on, then, since we are to part with you.” A few moments more and they were standing in the dark, narrow street, with the door swung to upon them and the sound of heavy bolts slipping back into their places to bring home, if it were needed, the full savour of release. Louis drew a long breath, and turning without a word to Gilbert embraced him. The Marquis released himself something hastily, and took off his cloak. “Put this on,” he said hurriedly. “I must tell you that you are now my valet. I have yet to get you out of Paris. There is a suit of clothes in readiness for you at my hotel, to which you must accompany me at once. Meanwhile, it is fortunately dark.” He swung the heavy cloak over Louis’ slim figure. “Not a word now, I beg of you; but follow me as quickly as you can.”