The clocks were striking half-past ten when Madame d’Escorval and Marie-Anne alighted at the Hotel de France. They found Maurice in despair, and even the abbe disheartened, for since the morning events had progressed with fearful rapidity. The semaphore signals were now explained; orders had come from Paris; and there they could be read in black and white, affixed to the walls of the town. “Montaignac must be regarded as in a state of siege. The military authorities have been granted discretionary powers. A military commission will exercise jurisdiction in lieu of all other courts. Let peaceable citizens take courage; let the evil disposed tremble! As for the rabble, the sword of the law is about to strike!” Only six lines in all--but each word fraught with menace! The abbe most regretted that trial before a military commission had been substituted for the customary court-martial. Indeed this upset all the plans he had devised in the hope of saving his friend. A court-martial is, of course, hasty and often unjust in its decisions; but still, it observes some of the forms of procedure practiced in judicial tribunals. It still retains some of the impartiality of legal justice, which asks to be enlightened before condemning. But the military commission now to be appointed would naturally neglect all legal forms; and the prisoners would be summarily condemned and punished after the fashion in which spies are treated in time of war. “What!” exclaimed Maurice, “would they dare to condemn without investigating, without listening to testimony, without allowing the prisoners time to prepare their defence?” The abbe remained silent. The turn events had taken exceeded his worst apprehensions. Now, indeed, he believed that anything was possible. Maurice had spoken of investigation. Investigation, if such it could be called, had indeed begun that very day, and was still continuing by the light of a jailor’s lantern. That is to say, the Duke de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu were passing the prisoners in review. They now numbered three hundred, and the duke and his companion had decided to begin by summoning before the commission thirty of the most dangerous conspirators. How were they to select them? By what method could they hope to discover the extent of each prisoner’s guilt? It would have been difficult for them to explain the course they took. They simply went from one man to another, asking any question that entered their minds, and when the terrified captive had answered them they either said to the head jailor, “Keep this one until another time,” or, “This one for to-morrow,” their decision being guided by the impression the man’s language and demeanour had created. By daylight, they had thirty names upon their list, at the head of which figured those of the Baron d’Escorval and Chanlouineau.