He paused, obviously terrified at the awesome expression of the other man's face. Chauvelin had allowed the coalheaver's wrist to drop out of his grasp. He was sitting quite still, silent and grim, his thin, claw-like hands closely clasped together and held between his knees. The flickering light of the lantern distorted his narrow face, lengthened the shadows beneath the nose and chin, threw a high light just below the brows, so that the pale eyes appeared to gleam with an unnatural flame. Rateau hardly dared to move. He lay like a huge bundle of rags in the inky blackness beyond the circle of light protected by the lantern; his breath came and went with a dragging, hissing sound, now and then broken by a painful cough. For a moment or two there was silence in the great disused store-room--a silence broken only by the thunder, dull and distant now, and the ceaseless, monotonous patter of the rain. Then Chauvelin murmured between his teeth: "If I thought that she . . ." But he did not complete the sentence, jumped to his feet and approached the big mass of rags and humanity that cowered in the gloom. "Get up, citizen Rateau!" he commanded. The asthmatic giant struggled to his knees. His wooden shoes had slipped off his feet. He groped for them, and with trembling hands contrived to put them on again. "Get up!" Chauvelin reiterated, with a snarl like an angry tiger. He took a small tablet and a leaden point from his pocket, and stooping toward the light he scribbled a few words, and then handed the tablet to Rateau. "Take this over to the Commissary of the Section in the Place du Carrousel. Half a dozen men and a captain will be detailed to go with you to the lodgings of the citoyenne Cabarrus in the Rue Villedot. You will find me there. Go!" Rateau's hand trembled visibly as he took the tablets. He was obviously terrified at what he had done. But Chauvelin paid no further heed to him. He had given him his orders, knowing well that they would be obeyed. The man had gone too far to draw back. It never entered Chauvelin's head that the coalheaver might have lied. He had no cause for spite against the citoyenne Cabarrus, and the fair Spaniard stood on too high a pinnacle of influence for false denunciations to touch her. The Terrorist waited until Rateau had quietly slunk out by the wicket door; then he turned on heel and quickly went up the stairs. §2 In the vestibule on the top floor he called to Capitaine Boyer. "Citizen Captain," he said at the top of his voice. "You remember that to-morrow eve is the end of the third day?" "Pardi!" the Captain retorted gruffly. "Is anything changed?" "No." "Then, unless by the eve of the fourth day that cursed Englishman is not in our hands, my orders are the same."