He turned to Juliette with an unexpressed query in
his adder-like eyes. She shrugged her shoulders,
and made a gesture as if pointing towards the door.
“There are other rooms in the house besides
this,” her gesture seemed to say; “try
them. The proofs are there, ’tis for you
to find them.”
Merlin had been standing between her and Deroulede,
so that the latter saw neither query nor reply.
“You are cunning, Citizen-Deputy,” said
Merlin now, turning towards him, “and no doubt
you have been at pains to put your treasonable correspondence
out of the way. You must understand that the Committee
of Public Safety will not be satisfied with a mere
examination of your study,” he added, assuming
an air of ironical benevolence, “and I presume
you will have no objection, if I and these citizen
soldiers pay a visit to other portions of your house.”
“As you please,” responded Deroulede drily.
“You will accompany us, Citizen-Deputy,”
commanded the other curtly.
The four men of the National Guard formed themselves
into line outside the study door; with a peremptory
nod, Merlin ordered Deroulede to pass between them,
then he too prepared to follow. At the door he
turned, and once more faced Juliette.
“As for you, citizeness,” he said, with
a sudden access of viciousness against her, “if
you have brought us here on a fool’s errand,
it will go ill with you, remember. Do not leave
the house until our return. I may have some questions
to put to you.”
Tangled meshes.
Juliette waited a moment or two, until the footsteps
of the six men died away up the massive oak stairs.
For the first time, since the sword of Damocles had
fallen, she was alone with her thoughts.
She had but a few moments at her command in which
to devise an issue out of these tangled meshes, which
she had woven round the man she loved.
Merlin and his men would return anon. The comedy
could not be kept up through another visit from them,
and while the compromising letter-case remained in
Deroulede’s private study he was in imminent
danger at the hands of his enemy.
She thought for a moment of concealing the case about
her person, but a second’s reflection showed
her the futility of such a move. She had not
seen the papers themselves; any one of them might be
an absolute proof of Deroulede’s guilt; the
correspondence might be in his handwriting.
If Merlin, furious, baffled, vicious, were to order
her to be searched! The horror of the indignity
made her shudder, but she would have submitted to
that, if thereby she could have saved Deroulede.
But of this she could not be sure until after she
had looked through the papers, and this she had not
the time to do.
Her first and greatest idea was to get out of this
room, his private study, with the compromising papers.
Not a trace of them must be found here, if he were
to remain beyond suspicion.
