“Traitor that you are!” he inveighed. “Do you imagine that because it is yours to make high sounding speeches in the Convention you are to conspire with impunity against the Nation? Your loyalty, it seems, is no more than a matter of words, and they that would keep their heads on their shoulders in France to-day will find the need for more than words as their claim to be let live. If you would save your miserable neck, tell me what you have done with this damned aristocrat.” “He is gone,” answered La Boulaye quietly. “Don't prevaricate, Caron! Don't seek to befool me, Citizen-deputy. You have him in hiding somewhere. You can have supplied him with no papers, and a man may not travel out of France without them in these times. Tell me--where is he?” “Gone,” repeated La Boulaye. “I have set him free, and he has availed himself of it to place himself beyond your reach. More than that I cannot tell you.” “Can you not?” snarled Robespierre, showing his teeth. “Of what are you dreaming fool? Do you think that I will so easily see myself cheated of this dog? Did I not tell you that rather would I grant you the lives of a dozen aristocrats than that of this single one? Do you think, then, that I am so lightly to be baulked? Name of God? Who are you, La Boulaye, what are you, that you dare thwart me in this?” He looked at the young man's impassive face to curb his anger. “Come, Caron,” he added, in a wheedling tone. “Tell me what you have done with him?” “I have already told you,” answered the other quietly. As swift and suddenly as it changed before did Robespierre's humour change again upon receiving that reply. With a snort of anger he strode to the door and threw it open. “Citizen-lieutenant!” he called, in a rasping voice. “Here, Citizen,” came a voice from below. “Give yourself the trouble of coming up with a couple of men. Now, Citizen La Boulaye,” he said, more composedly, as he turned once more to the young man, “since you will not learn reason you may mount the guillotine in his place.” Caron paled slightly as he inclined his head in silent submission. At that moment the officer entered with his men at his heels. “Arrest me that traitor,” Maximilien commanded, pointing a shaking finger at Caron. “To the Luxembourg with him.” “If you will wait while I change my dressing-gown for a coat, Citizen-officer,” said La Boulaye composedly, “I shall be grateful.” Then, turning to his official, “Brutus,” he called, “attend me.” He had an opportunity while Brutus was helping him into his coat to whisper in the fellow's ear: “Let her know.” More he dared not say, but to his astute official that was enough, and with a sorrowful face he delivered to Suzanne, a few hours later, the news of La Boulaye's definite arrest and removal to the Luxembourg. At Brutus's description of the scene there had been 'twixt Robespierre and Caron she sighed heavily, and her lashes grew wet. “Poor, faithful La Boulaye!” she murmured. “God aid him now.”