One more vague fear troubled him. La Souris had never, by word or sign, indicated that he concerned himself in the least about the boy, since the memorable night when the plot of the Baron de Batz had failed. But of late the man was constant in his hovering about the tavern, and the very fact that he seemed to avoid speaking to the boy purposely, made Jean most uneasy. It was as though a sword were suspended above his head, and might fall at any unexpected moment. All these thoughts served to depress the spirits of this usually lively lad. He walked soberly, his head bent, looking neither to the right nor left, his hands jammed in his trousers pockets. The street he traversed was alive with people and bright with the lights from many shop-windows. But presently he turned into one that was quite deserted, and almost pitch dark by contrast. He had not proceeded far in this black lane before he became aware of stealthy steps following him. His first impulse was to take to his heels and run at top speed, but he wisely decided to do no such thing. Instead he stopped abruptly and demanded: "Who is following me? What do you want?" The stealthy footfalls ceased for a moment, then out of the shadow stepped a huge figure. "Do not be afraid!" a voice whispered, as the figure drew near. "I am Citizen Prevôt, the pikeman, who helped to search your house over a year ago!" Jean was astonished and not a little alarmed. He knew Prevôt to be an almost constant attendant of his enemy, La Souris, and he could not imagine whether to expect an attack from this giant or a friendly advance. Prevôt hastened to reassure him: "I am following you with the friendliest intentions, believe me! I always liked you for your cleverness in teaching that little dog his trick, and I've news that will interest you to-night. I followed you from the tavern, but I dared not address you till we came to this dark street, for fear of--_him_! He's a born spy! It's the sole ambition of his life to get someone into trouble,--you know whom I mean!--and I hate him as I hate the devil! But I have to serve him,--that's my living and likewise the safety of my neck! Now, in the first place, let me ask you did your little dog ever get back to you?" "Oh, yes, yes!" answered Jean. "But how he came to, I know not." "Well, _I_ do," returned Prevôt, "for I let him out of the house that night. The poor little beast had been pining away for weeks and weeks. He would eat almost nothing, and when we tried to make him do that clever trick, he would only lie down and whine. It was plain that his heart was breaking. So, one night when _he_ was out on some spying expedition, I quietly opened the door, and the little animal was off and away like a flash. I supposed he would get back to you. My soul! But I had to stand a tirade from _him_ when he came back, for I represented to him how the beast must have sneaked out unawares!"