appeared, and a single large paper folded up.
The addresses upon the letters took my breath away.
The first that I glanced at was to Citizen Talleyrand.
The others were in the Republican style addressed
to Citizen Fouche, to Citizen Soult, to Citizen MacDonald,
to Citizen Berthier, and so on through the whole list
of famous names in war and in diplomacy who were the
pillars of the new Empire. What in the world
could this pretended merchant of coffee have to write
to all these great notables about? The other
paper would explain, no doubt. I laid the letters
upon the shelf and I unfolded the paper which had
been enclosed with them. It did not take more
than the opening sentence to convince me that the
salt-marsh outside might prove to be a very much safer
place than this accursed cottage.
These were the words which met my eyes:—
’Fellow-citizens of France. The deed of
to-day has proved that, even in the midst of his troops,
a tyrant is unable to escape the vengeance of an outraged
people. The committee of three, acting temporarily
for the Republic, has awarded to Buonaparte the same
fate which has already befallen Louis Capet.
In avenging the outrage of the 18th Brumaire—’
So far I had got when my heart sprang suddenly into
my mouth and the paper fluttered down from my fingers.
A grip of iron had closed suddenly round each of
my ankles, and there in the light of the fire I saw
two hands which, even in that terrified glance, I perceived
to be covered with black hair and of an enormous size.
‘So, my friend,’ cried a thundering voice,
’this time, at least, we have been too many
for you.’
MEN OF THE NIGHT
I had little time given me to realise the extraordinary
and humiliating position in which I found myself,
for I was lifted up by my ankles, as if I were a fowl
pulled off a perch, and jerked roughly down into the
room, my back striking upon the stone floor with a
thud which shook the breath from my body.
‘Don’t kill him yet, Toussac,’ said
a soft voice. ’Let us make sure who he
is first.’
I felt the pressure of a thumb upon my chin and of
fingers upon my throat, and my head was slowly forced
round until the strain became unbearable.
‘Quarter of an inch does it and no mark,’
said the thunderous voice. ‘You can trust
my old turn.’
‘Don’t, Toussac; don’t!’ said
the same gentle voice which had spoken first.
’I saw you do it once before, and the horrible
snick that it made haunted me for a long time.
To think that the sacred flame of life can be so
readily snuffed out by that great material finger and
thumb! Mind can indeed conquer matter, but the
fighting must not be at close quarters.’
My neck was so twisted that I could not see any of
these people who were discussing my fate. I
could only lie and listen.
’The fact remains, my dear Charles, that the
fellow has our all-important secret, and that it is
our lives or his.
