tattered uniform affected by the revolutionary guard stepped briskly out
of the crowd. Chauvelin's claw-like hand was shaking visibly.

"The man Mole," he called in a voice husky with excitement. "Seize him
at once! And, name of a dog! do not allow a living soul in or out of the
house!"

Hebert turned on his heel. The next moment his harsh voice was heard
above the din and the general hubbub around:

"Quite safe, citizen!" he called to his chief. "We have the rogue right
enough!"

There was much shouting and much cursing, a great deal of bustle and
confusion, as the men of the Surete closed the doors of the defunct
demagogue's lodgings. Some two score men, a dozen or so women, were
locked in, inside the few rooms which reeked of dirt and of disease.
They jostled and pushed, screamed and protested. For two or three
minutes the din was quite deafening. Simonne Evrard pushed her way up to
the forefront of the crowd.

"What is this I hear?" she queried peremptorily. "Who is accusing
citizen Mole? And of what, I should like to know? I am responsible for
everyone inside these apartments...and if citizen Marat were still
alive--"

Chauvelin appeared unaware of all the confusion and of the woman's
protestations. He pushed his way through the crowd to the corner of the
anteroom where Mole stood, crouching and hunched up, his grimy hands
idly fingering the papers which Chauvelin had returned to him a moment