It was up a side staircase from this, now walled up, that Marie Antoinette, the Queen of France, was led before the Revolutionary tribunal which sat, as we all know, in the great hall where appeals are now heard before the Supreme Court.  The heart sinks within us at the sight of these dreadful steps, when we think that Marie Therese’s daughter, whose suite, and head-dress, and hoops filled the great staircase at Versailles, once passed that way!  Perhaps it was in expiation of her mother’s crime—­the atrocious division of Poland.  The sovereigns who commit such crimes evidently never think of the retribution to be exacted by Providence.

When Jacques Collin went up the vaulted stairs to the public prosecutor’s room, Bibi-Lupin was just coming out of the little door in the wall.

The chief of the “Safety” had come from the Conciergerie, and was also going up to Monsieur de Granville.  It was easy to imagine Bibi-Lupin’s surprise when he recognized, in front of him, the gown of Carlos Herrera, which he had so thoroughly studied that morning; he ran on to pass him.  Jacques Collin turned round, and the enemies were face to face.  Each stood still, and the self-same look flashed in both pairs of eyes, so different in themselves, as in a duel two pistols go off at the same instant.

“This time I have got you, rascal!” said the chief of the Safety Department.

“Ah, ha!” replied Jacques Collin ironically.

It flashed through his mind that Monsieur de Granville had sent some one to watch him, and, strange to say, it pained him to think the magistrate less magnanimous than he had supposed.

Bibi-Lupin bravely flew at Jacques Collin’s throat; but he, keeping his eye on the foe, gave him a straight blow, and sent him sprawling on his back three yards off; then Trompe-la-Mort went calmly up to Bibi-Lupin, and held out a hand to help him rise, exactly like an English boxer who, sure of his superiority, is ready for more.  Bibi-Lupin knew better than to call out; but he sprang to his feet, ran to the entrance to the passage, and signed to a gendarme to stand on guard.  Then, swift as lightning, he came back to the foe, who quietly looked on.  Jacques Collin had decided what to do.

“Either the public prosecutor has broken his word, or he had not taken Bibi-Lupin into his confidence, and in that case I must get the matter explained,” thought he.—­“Do you mean to arrest me?” he asked his enemy.  “Say so without more ado.  Don’t I know that in the heart of this place you are stronger than I am?  I could kill you with a well-placed kick, but I could not tackle the gendarmes and the soldiers.  Now, make no noise.  Where to you want to take me?”

“To Monsieur Camusot.”

“Come along to Monsieur Camusot,” replied Jacques Collin.  “Why should we not go to the public prosecutor’s court?  It is nearer,” he added.

Bibi-Lupin, who knew that he was out of favor with the upper ranks of judicial authorities, and suspected of having made a fortune at the expense of criminals and their victims, was not unwilling to show himself in Court with so notable a capture.