“Proof! I can give you enough--” began Pérousse hotly, then paused in confusion. For what could he truly say? If he told the Chief of Police that this Pasquin Leroy was believed to have counterfeited the Prime Minister’s signet, in order to obtain an interview with David Jost, why then the Chief of Police would be informed once and for all that the Prime Minister was in confidential communication with the Jew-proprietor of a stock-jobbing newspaper! And that would never do! It would, at the least, be impolitic. Inwardly chafing with annoyance, he assumed an outward air of conscientious gravity. “You will regret it, General, I think, if you do not follow out my suggestions respecting this man,” he said coldly; “He is writing for the press in a strain which is plainly directed against the Government. Of course we statesmen pay little or no heed to modern journalism, but the King, having taken the unusual, and as I consider it, unwise step of proclaiming certain of his intentions in a newspaper which was, until his patronage, obscure and unsuccessful, the public attention has been suddenly turned towards this particular journal; and what is written therein may possibly influence the masses as it would not have done a few weeks ago.” “I quite believe that!” said Bernhoff tersely; “But I cannot arrest a man for writing clever things. Literary talent is no proof of dishonesty.” Pérousse looked at him sharply. But there was no satire in Bernhoff’s fixed and glassy eye, and no expression whatever in his woodenly-composed countenance. “We entertain different opinions on the matter, it is evident!” he said; “You will at least grant that if he cannot be arrested, he can be carefully watched?” “He _is_ carefully watched!” replied Bernhoff; “That is to say, as far as _I_ can watch him!” “Good!” and Pérousse smiled, somewhat relieved. “Then on the first suspicion of a treasonable act----” “I shall arrest him--in the King’s name, when the King signs the warrant,” said Bernhoff; “But he is one of Sergius Thord’s followers, and at the present juncture it might be unwise to touch any member of that particularly inflammable body.” Pérousse frowned. “Sergius Thord ought to have been hanged or shot years ago----” “Then why did not you hang or shoot him?” enquired Bernhoff. “I was not in office.” “Why do you not hang or shoot him now?” “Why? Because----” “Because,” interrupted Bernhoff, again lifting his grim warning finger; “If you did, the city would be in a tumult and more than half the soldiery would be on the side of the mob! By way of warning, M. Pérousse, I may as well tell you frankly, on the authority of my position as Head of the Police, that the Government are on the edge of a dangerous situation!” Pérousse looked contemptuous. “Every Government in the world is on the edge of a dangerous situation nowadays!” he retorted;--“But any Government that yields to the mob proves itself a mere ministry of cowardice.”