In that one fraction of a second, whilst those six words were spoken, Déroulède's eyes wandered swiftly towards the heavy letter-case, which now held his condemnation, and a wild, mad thought--the mere animal desire to escape from danger--surged up in his brain. The plans for the escape of Marie Antoinette, the various passports, worded in accordance with the possible disguises the unfortunate Queen might assume--all these papers were more than sufficient proof of what would be termed his treason against the Republic. He could already hear the indictment against him, could see the filthy mob of Paris dancing a wild saraband round the tumbril, which bore him towards the guillotine; he could hear their yells of execration, could feel the insults hurled against him, by those who had most admired, most envied him. And from all this he would have escaped if he could, if it had not been too late. It was but a second, or less, whilst the words were spoken outside his door, and whilst all other thoughts in him were absorbed in this one mad desire for escape. He even made a movement, as if to snatch up the letter-case and to hide it about his person. But it was heavy and bulky; it would be sure to attract attention, and might bring upon him the additional indignity of being forced to submit to a personal search. He caught Juliette's eyes fixed upon him with an intensity of gaze which, in that same one mad moment, revealed to him the depths of her love. Then the second's weakness was gone; he was once more quiet, firm, the man of action, accustomed to meet danger boldly, to rule and to subdue the most turgid mob. With a quiet shrug of the shoulders, he dismissed all thought of the compromising lettercase, and went to the door. Already, as no reply had come to the third word of command, it had been thrown open from outside, and Déroulède found himself face to face with the five men. "Citizen Merlin!" he said quietly, as he recognised the foremost among them. "Himself, Citizen-Deputy," rejoined the latter, with a sneer, "at your service." Anne Mie, in a remote corner of the hall, had heard the name, and felt her very soul sicken at its sound. Merlin! Author of that infamous Law of the Suspect which had set man against man, a father against his son, brother against brother, and friend against friend, had made of every human creature a bloodhound on the track of his fellowmen, dogging in order not to be dogged, denouncing, spying, hounding, in order not to be denounced. And he, Merlin, gloried in this, the most fiendishly evil law ever perpetrated for the degradation of the human race.