"And who would have watched the house?" the gardener replied, who had thought it better to guard his bedridden wife than to compromise himself by starting off in search of Olivier. The young man rushed into the house like a whirlwind, his haggard eyes roving round the empty rooms, with the mad, impossible hope that Thérèse was hidden behind some piece of furniture, and would burst upon him in a peal of laughter, as in the days of childish gambols. Then suddenly he darted off like a madman in the direction of Montmorency. He would go and tell the news to Leonard, who must have returned by this time. Perhaps he already knew? He stopped as suddenly: an idea had struck him. If the agents had ordered a conveyance at Montmorency, he had only to interrogate the driver. That was clear enough! So he resumed his headlong course, jumping the ditches as he went, reckless of all risks. On the way he fell into Leonard's arms. The locksmith had learnt everything from the driver who had taken Clarisse and Thérèse to Paris, and had stopped at the workshop on his way back. The two women had been placed in the prison of La Bourbe, at Port-Royal, arrested as "suspects." "But by whose orders?" asked Olivier, stupefied. "Robespierre's." "The wretch!" he vociferated as he fell on a chair, frantic with rage. But he was soon on his feet again, resolute and decided. "I must go!" he said; "I must start at once for Paris. I must have them from that prison! For now prison means the guillotine!" Leonard held him back, begging him to wait till the morrow, entreating him to be prudent, and to do nothing rashly. But Olivier was deaf to counsel or entreaty, and at last succeeded in obtaining from the locksmith the address of a furnished apartment in the Rue du Rocher, in a quiet, respectable house. Only giving himself time to go in the adjoining room and take a travelling-bag he had left in Leonard's care, packed with a few clothes and sundry other articles brought with him from Pontivy, Olivier started for Paris, accompanied at first by Leonard, who took leave of him at a junction of the roads. "Pray for me, Leonard," he said, taking an affectionate farewell, "for I say it again, they shall come out of that prison, even if I have to pay for it with my life." At midnight Olivier arrived at the Rue du Rocher, having walked the whole way without really knowing how, mind and body being given up to the one haunting thought. He rang at the house indicated to him, and secured a room, mentioning Leonard as a reference, and when the concierge asked his name he replied-- "Germain, Citoyen Germain. Could I go to my room now? I am so sleepy."