At this period, and indeed for long afterwards, Paris was too often the scene of terrible outrages committed on unprotected persons. Men--sometimes even women--were inveigled into houses under one pretence or another and robbed, oftentimes murdered for whatever they might chance to have about them, and, frequently, were never heard of again. That this was the case Bertie knew perfectly well, yet--even after the mysterious murder of his friend at Amiens--he had not the slightest belief that anything of a similar nature was intended towards him. First, he was a soldier and known by the man behind him to be one; he was armed, although now dressed as a civilian, and therefore a dangerous man to attack. And, next, none who knew aught of him could suppose that it would be worth while to endeavour to rob him. The Scots officers serving in France were no fit game for such as got their living by preying on their fellow-creatures. Still he could not but muse deeply on what could possibly be the object of any exempt in subjecting him to such espionage, while at the same time he hastened his footsteps over the bridge so as at once to arrive at a solution of the matter. "Here is the bureau of Monsieur Carvel," said the spy, as on reaching the northern side of the river he directed his companion to a house almost facing the approach to the bridge; "doubtless he will explain all." "Doubtless," replied Elphinston. "Summon him." The door was opened an instant after the man had rapped on it, and another man, plainly dressed and evidently of the inferior orders, though of a respectable type, admitted them to a room on the left-hand side of the passage; a room on the walls of which hung several weapons--a blunderbuss, a musquetoon or so, some swords--which Bertie noticed were mostly of fashionable make with parchment labels attached to them--and one or two pairs of gyves, or fetters. Also, on the walls were some roughly-printed descriptions of persons, in some cases illustrated with equally rough wood-cuts. "So!" said the man, looking first at the spy and then at Elphinston. "So! Whom have we here?" "Monsieur le Capitaine Elphinston," the other replied. "Learning, Monsieur Carvel, your desire to meet with him from me, he elected to visit you at once." "_Tiens!_ It will save much trouble. Monsieur le Capitaine is extremely obliging." "Sir," said Bertie sternly, "I am not here with the intention of conferring any obligation upon you. I wish to know why I, an officer of the King, serving in the Regiment of Picardy, am tracked and spied upon by your follower, or servant. I wish a full explanation of why I am subjected to this indignity." "Monsieur, the explanation is very simple. An order signed by the Vicomte d'Argenson has been forwarded to me for your arrest, and with it a lettre de cachet." "A lettre de cachet!" "Yes, monsieur. A lettre de cachet, ordering me to convey you to the Bastille." "My God!" CHAPTER XXI. THE BASTILLE.