“Likewise ashlar stones of the Bastille continue thundering through the dusk; its paper archives shall fly white. Old secrets come to view; and long buried despair finds voice. Read this portion of an old letter: ‘If for my consolation monseigneur would grant me, for the sake of God and the most blessed Trinity, that I should have news of my dear wife; were it only her name on a card to show that she is alive! It were the greatest consolation I could receive; and I should forever bless the greatness of monseigneur.’ Poor prisoner, who signest thyself Quéret-Démery, and hast no other history, she is dead, that dear wife of thine, and thou art dead! ’Tis fifty years since thy breaking heart put this question; to be heard now first, and long heard, in the hearts of men.” * * * * * A long silence. The fire was low. One dim, blurred form was there--an old man, writing, in a stone cell. Aughinbaugh closed the book. His eyes were moist. “One of the greatest novels ever written, ‘The Tale of Two Cities,’ is based entirely upon and turns upon this last paragraph. Read that to-morrow and then come back to the ‘French Revolution.’ You’ll be around to-morrow night?” Jeff rose, laughing. “You remind me of my roommate at school.” “Your--what? Where?” said George in astonishment. “Oh, yes, I’ve been to school, but not very long. When the boys used to stay too late he’d yawn and say to me: ‘Jeff, perhaps we’d better go to bed. These people may want to go home!’” “Oh, well, it’s nearly twelve o’clock,” said George, unabashed. “And I have to work if you don’t. Bless you, my children, bless you! Be happy and you will be good! _Buenas noches!_” “_Buenas noches!_” * * * * * A trolley car whirred by, with scintillation of blue-crackling sparks. Jeff elected to walk, companied by his storied ghosts--their footsteps sounded through the rustling leaves. The wind was dead; the night was overcast, dark and chill. Aughinbaugh’s lodgings were in the outskirts of the residence section; the streets at this hour were deserted. Jeff had walked briskly for ten minutes when, as he neared a corner in a quiet neighborhood, he saw a tall man in gray come from the farther side of the intersecting street just ahead. The gray man paused under the electric light to let a recklessly-driven cab overtake and pass him, and then turned diagonally over toward Jeff, whistling as he came. He was half-way across, and Jeff was within a yard of the corner, when another man, short and squat, hurried from the street to the left, brushing by so close that Jeff might have touched him. So unexpected was his appearance--for his footsteps had been drowned by the clattering cab--that Jeff was startled. He paused, midstep, for the merest fraction of a second. The town clock boomed midnight.