He raised his voice and spoke peremptorily like one accustomed to be listened to with deference. But the sergeant seemed unimpressed. All he said was:

"Very well, Citizen. You will act, no doubt, as you thing best in your own interests. I have only my duty to perform."

He gave a quick order to two of his men, who immediately stepped forward and took up their stand one on each side of Charles Levet. The sergeant then crossed the vestibule, and taking no further notice of the lawyer, he went into the dining-room. Blanche and Augustin had resumed their seats at the table. Blanche sat with her chin cupped in her hand. Augustin, his eyes closed, his fingers twined together, seemed absorbed in prayer. In the background Marie, the maid of all work, stood agape like a frightened hen.

The sergeant took a comprehensive survey of the room. He was a stolid-looking fellow, obviously a countryman and not over-endowed with intelligence, and he gave the impression that what he lacked in personality he strove to counterbalance by bluster: the sort of bumpkin, in fact, whom the Revolution had dragged out of obscurity and thrust into some measure of prominence, and who was determined to make the most of his unexpected rise to fortune. He took no further notice of the lawyer, cleared his throat, and announced with due pompousness:

"In the name of the Republic!"

He then unfolded a paper which he had in his hand, and continued:

"I have here a list of all the inmates of this house, as given to the Chief of Section this afternoon, either by Citizen Maurin or his friend the Professor with the sprained ankle, whose address is not known. I will read aloud the names on this list, and each one of you on hearing your name, say the one word. 'Present' and stand at attention. Now then!"

He then proceeded to read and to interpolate comments of his own after every name.

"Charles Levet, herbalist! We have got him safely already. Henriette his wife! She is dead, I understand. Augustin Levet, priest! . . . Why don't you answer?" he interposed peremptorily as Augustin had not made the required reply, "and why don't you rise? Have you also got a sprained ankle?"

Augustin then rose obediently and spoke the word:

"Present."

"Blanche Levet, daughter of Charles," the soldier continued.

"Present."

"Marie Bachelier, aide ménage."

"Here I am, Citizen Sergeant," quoth Marie, nearly scared out of her wits."

"And a guest, identity unknown," the soldier concluded. "Where is he?" He rolled up the paper and thrust it into his belt.

"Where is the guest?" he reiterated gruffly, and still receiving no answer, he asked once more: "Where is he?"

He looked round from one to the other, rolling his eyes and clearing his throat in a manner destined to impress these "traitors."

Augustin thereupon said emphatically: "There is no one here." And Blanche shook her pretty head and declared: "No one has been here all day except Citizen Maurin and the Citizen Doctor."

By way of a response to these declarations the sergeant of the Republican Guard turned on his heel and called to the small squad who were standing at attention, some in the vestibule, some outside the front door. To Blanche and Augustin he merely remarked: "We'll soon see about that." And to old Levet, who was standing patiently between the two soldiers, seemingly quite unmoved by what was going on in his house, he said sternly:

"I am about to order this house to be searched. So let me warn you, Citizen Levet, that if any stranger is found on your premises, it will be a far more serious matter for you and your family than if you had given him up of your own accord."

Old Levet merely shook his head and reiterated simply:

"There is no one here."

The sergeant then ordered his men to proceed with the search. It was thorough. The soldiers did not mince matters. They even invaded the room where Henriette Levet lay dead. They looked under her bed and lifted the sheet which covered her. Old Levet stood by, while this sacrilege was being committed, a silent figure as rigid as the dead. In the dining-room Augustin had once more taken refuge in prayer, while Blanche, half-dazed by all that she had gone through, sank back into a chair, her elbows resting on the table, and her eyes staring into vacancy.

Louis Maurin, as soon as the soldiers were out of the way, came and sat down opposite the young girl. He had remained silent and aloof while this last short episode was going on, but now he leaned over the table and began talking in an impressive whisper:

"Do not be afraid, Mademoiselle Blanche," he said. "I give you my word that nothing serious will happen to your father or to any of you, even if this meddlesome sergeant should discover your anonymous friend in this house. Please, please," he went on earnestly, as Blanche was obviously on the point of renewing her protest that there was no one here, "please say no more. I do firmly believe that you know nothing of what happened here this afternoon. As for your father Well! You know he is very silent and secretive. He may be sheltering some one who has come under the ban of the authorities. But I insist that you do not worry your pretty head about him, or about yourself and Augustin. I have a great deal of influence at the Commissariat and I give you my word that not later than to-morrow you will all be sitting having supper round this table. There now, let me see you smile. I tell you I can, and will, make the safety of those you care for a personal matter with the authorities. It might prove a little more difficult if your father has been sheltering some one surreptitiously instead of giving him up at once to the guard, but even so I can do it. My word on it, Mademoiselle Blanche."

He was very persuasive and very earnest. The ghost of a smile flitted round Blanche's pretty mouth.

"You are very kind, Louis," she said.

"I would do anything for you, Mademoiselle," the young man responded earnestly.

She sighed and murmured: "I cannot understand the whole thing."

"What can't you understand, Mademoiselle?"

"Monsieur le Professeur. He seemed such a friend. Do you really think that it was he?"

"Who caused all this trouble, you mean?"

"Yes!"

"Well! I am not sure," Maurin replied vaguely. "One never knows. He may be a spy of the revolutionary government and he may have denounced your father. They are very clever, those fellows. They worm themselves into your confidence, and then betray you for a mere pittance. I wish your father had not made such a friend of him. But as I assured you just now, Mademoiselle, you have no cause for worry. While I live, no possible harm shall come to you or to your family. You do trust me, don't you?"

She murmured a timid "Yes!" and gave him her hand, which he raised to his lips.

The soldiers in the meanwhile had continued their search on the floor above. The noise of heavy footsteps, of furniture being dragged out of place, of banging on walls and cupboards, disturbed the serenity of this house which at the moment, with its mistress lying dead, should have been an abode of peace. Whilst this loud chatter went on overhead, Maurin shot searching glances at the young girl to see if she betrayed any anxiety for the guest whom he firmly believed to be still in the house. But Blanche remained seemingly unmoved and, much to his chagrin, Maurin was forced to come to the conclusion that he had brought a squad of Republican Guards out on a fool's errand and that his well-laid plan would end in a manner not altogether to his credit, and not in accordance with his hopes.