Paul took the bundle and went into the next room. For fifteen minutes the jailer sat upon the one chair the room contained, humming and jingling his bunch of keys. Then the door into the outer corridor was thrown open and a large man entered. The jailer sprang to his feet with alacrity. "Where's the prisoner, Potin?" demanded the newcomer in a harsh voice. "In the next room, Citizen Leboeuf," replied Potin. Leboeuf strode toward the door and laid his hand upon the latch. "I beg your pardon, Citizen Leboeuf, but the prisoner may not be ready to receive you." "Well, there's no particular reason to be squeamish, is there?" asked Leboeuf, screwing his fat face into a leer. "If you will wait another minute I think the prisoner will come out," suggested Potin deferentially, jingling his keys. "Bah, you show your lodgers too much consideration, citizen jailer; you spoil them." Nevertheless Leboeuf allowed his hand to drop from the latch and took a few impatient strides across the floor. The door opened and, turning, Leboeuf saw Mademoiselle de Rochefort standing on the threshold. She was thinner than when she left La Thierry: but her eyes had lost none of their fire, and she looked Citizen Leboeuf in the face without flinching. His dull eyes kindled while he looked at her some moments without speaking. "Do you know who I am?" he inquired in his thick, husky voice. "Yes, I overheard the jailer call you Citizen Leboeuf." "Right. I am Citizen Leboeuf; and do you know why you have been brought here?" "A paper was read to me last night which pretended to give some explanation," was her quiet rejoinder. "In order to save time and expense your trial will take place at Tours, rather than at Paris. I am one of the judges of this district." Mademoiselle Edmé looked at him with an expression of indifference. "You do not appear to be afraid." "I am not afraid," was the quiet reply. Leboeuf eyed her with evident admiration. "Why did you put on boy's clothes?" he asked abruptly. "In order to avoid detection," she answered frankly, coming forward and seating herself in the chair which Potin had vacated upon her entrance. Leboeuf was standing before her, hat in hand, an act of politeness he had not shown to any one for years. "And you did it well," he said. "You threw them off the track completely. Had it not been for me, your hiding-place would never have been discovered. It was a splendid trick you played upon those bunglers from Paris." And he slapped his thigh in keen appreciation of it, and laughed hoarsely.