"I have no accommodation for you here, citizens," a voice said, as Jean Martin and Leigh rode into the little courtyard, and a man with a wooden leg came out from the side door of the inn.  
"I think you might be able to manage for us, Brenon," Jean said.
 
"Mon Dieu! it is--"
 
Jean held up his hand sharply.
 
"Yes, it is I, Citizen Gallon, from Vallet. It is not often that I stir so far from home, but I had business here."
 
"Well, well, I will see what I can do for you, comrade; but as you know, I don't profess to take in horses. My clients come from the waterside, and generally my stable is full of their baskets and ropes. However, I will see what I can do. I will tie them up in that shed, for the present, and then clear out a stall for them afterwards."
 
The horses were led to a shed, encumbered with fishing gear of all sorts.
 
"What madness has seized you, mon capitaine, to put your head into this lion's den?"
 
"I will tell you presently, Brenon, when we get inside. I am glad that you are able to take the horses in. We don't want to be stared at, or talked about. We have come along the river bank and, so far, we have been quite unnoticed."
 
"All the better, all the better; to be noticed here means to have one's head cut off. Now, I will take you to a little room upstairs, where there is no chance of anyone seeing you."
 
"Get us up, if you can, without our being noticed by your servants, Brenon. We shall be differently dressed when we come down again."
 
The man nodded.
 
"The boy is in the front room," he said. "There are three or four fishermen there, having their morning glass. I have no other servants. My wife does what is needful, for I was obliged to discharge the girl we had, everything has been so slack of late."
 
He led them up to a chamber looking on to the quay. Jean was puzzled at the man's manner, for he spoke in a confused and hesitating way. When he closed the door behind him, he stood rubbing his hands together nervously.
 
"Have you heard lately from Nantes, Monsieur Jean?"
 
"No, it is five weeks since I had any news; except, of course, what was known about the troops that were here. What is it, old friend? Is there bad news?"
 
"There is terrible news," Brenon said, "so bad that I don't know how to tell you."
 
"Speak out, old friend. I have had one blow so heavy that I can scarcely be hurt more than I am."
 
"Well, then, monsieur, your father has been arrested and is in the prison; and you know what that means!"
 
"Father arrested!" Jean exclaimed; "on what grounds? He never expressed an opinion as to public affairs. That at heart he hated what has been going on, I know; but he never spoke strongly, even to me, and when I have heard his opinion asked, he has always replied that he was a trader, and that a man could not give his attention to business if he worried himself over politics. He attended to his trade, and left it to those who liked, to manage the government of the country.
 
"What of my mother and sister?"
 
"They are safe, monsieur. He sent them off a fortnight before, in disguise, to La Rochelle; at least, so I have heard from the fishermen. And as the Henriette was lying there at the time, and sailed two days after, there is not much doubt but that they sailed in her for England.
 
"Your father was denounced before the committee of public safety as one who was hostile to the Convention. He was accused of having sent large sums of money to England, and was believed to have sent his wife and daughter there also, with the intention, of course, of following them; and the fact that you were known to be fighting in the ranks of the brigands, as they call the Vendeans, was also mentioned as an additional crime on his part."
 
"Then we have a double task to carry out, Leigh," Jean said grimly.
 
"Now I will tell you what we came here for, Brenon. Six days ago a small party of the Blue cavalry came, at night, to my chateau. I was away, but they carried off my wife as a prisoner, and burnt the house to the ground. So we have come here to see if we cannot get her out of prison.''
 
"You have thought of such a thing as that?" the man exclaimed in surprise. "Ah, monsieur! It is well nigh an impossibility that you have undertaken. The villains know that there are hundreds of men, friends of the prisoners with whom they have crowded the jails, who would tear them down stone by stone, if they had the power; but in addition to the prison warders--not the men that used to be there, but men taken from the lowest class in the town--the prisons are watched by what they call the volunteers, fifteen hundred men belonging to the scum of the city--the men from the slaughterhouses, the skinners', and the tan yards Some of these are ever on guard round the prisons, night and day.
 
"There have been great changes here. A year ago, almost everyone thought that the Assembly was going to do wonderful things. No one knew exactly what. According to what they said, everyone was to be able to eat meat, seven days a week, to wear good clothes, and to do just as much work as pleased him and no more. Even the fishermen and sailors were fools enough to believe it.
 
"But there is a great change now. At first they approved of cutting off the heads of those who, they were told, were the cause of all misery and poverty; but when, every day, fresh prisoners were brought in, and it was not the nobles only but quiet citizens--tradesmen, manufacturers, doctors, and advocates--and every morning a score were carried out to be guillotined, men began to change their opinion; especially when they found that the more heads were cut off, the less work there was and the poorer they became. They began to talk among themselves and, when it came to executing women and children, as well as men, they turned round altogether.
 
"More than once the fishermen and sailors have tried to rescue prisoners on their way to execution. The commissioners of the republic have been hooted in the streets and, if they had had arms in their hands, our men would have turned the tables; but the town is full of troops now and, worse than all, they have enrolled this corps of volunteers, who are the terror of the place. They have spies everywhere, and no one dares whisper a word against the commissioners or the executions for, if but two or three men are standing by, the chances are that one of them is a spy."
 
"But surely my brother might have prevented my father's arrest, Brenon? He was one of the leading men at that Jacobin Club."
 
"He is still one of the leading men of the party," Brenon said gloomily. "He is established in your father's house, now, and is on the most intimate terms with the commissaries of the Convention."
 
"Is Monsieur Desailles still here? He was a young advocate, and a member of the Jacobin Club."
 
"Yes, he is a member still: but he is not in good odour with the extreme party. He is at the head of what they call the moderates. They say that sometimes these try to defend accused persons, and that is considered a terrible offence by the others. I should never be surprised to hear that he himself, and those with him, have been denounced as enemies of the state. This is an awful time, monsieur, and Heaven only knows what we shall come to.
 
"Now, is there anything that I can do for you, captain? You know well that you have but to say the word and that, whatever it is, I would do it, even if I were cut to pieces the minute afterwards."
 
"Thank you, old friend. It was because I knew that you were trusty and true that I came here. Now, the first thing that we want is fishermen's clothes. We only disguised ourselves in those things in order to pass safely through the Blues, and be able to cross the ferry. For the present they have done their work, and now we want a disguise that we can go about in, unnoticed. Of course, we don't want new things."
 
"I can get them easily enough, monsieur. My customers are all hard up. I know pretty well which are true men, and which are not."
 
"In the next place, I should like to buy or hire a boat to be at my disposal, as long as I stay here."
 
"There are boats and to spare, captain. Fishing goes on because men must live; though it can hardly be called living, for the prices of everything are fixed by law, now, and are fixed so low that the men can scarce earn enough to buy bread for themselves, and their families. Still, there are boats in plenty. Men have come down from towns and villages higher up, for they say that the troops are under no control and, when the boats come in after a night's fishing, they come down and help themselves and, if a man ventures to grumble, he gets a musket ball to pay him for his fish. The men here, at first, were against their fishing between this place and the sea; but the authorities stepped in, and said that the more food, the better for the people; and as the price was fixed, the men here saw that it made no difference to them. Still, like our own men, they are doing badly enough, and one could buy a boat for a mere song."
 
"It would be better to buy one from those men, Brenon, because the fact of our being strangers would not then be noticed. I want one rowing boat, as fast a craft as you can pick out.
 
"I also want to hire a boat with a cabin that will hold us both. Of course it will be a sailing boat, say of three or four tons burden. I intend that we shall live on board. It might be noticed if two strange sailors were often coming in and out of your place; whereas, if we were in a boat moored against the bank, no one would notice us. If you can get hold of such a boat, with a couple of men who seem to you to be honest fellows, strangers to the place, it will be a great thing; and we could occasionally go down the river, and do a little fishing."
 
"All that can be managed easily enough, captain. I know of one boat, just such a size; owned by two men, Rouget and Medart, who sailed in the Henriette for years, and only left her when you did, as they had wives and families here, and knew that she would not put in again for a long time. You could trust them as you do me."
 
"That would be the very thing. Make arrangements with them, on any terms they like. I will take her by the week. She carries a boat, I suppose?"
 
"Of course, monsieur, they could not do without one."
 
"If she is fast, well and good. If not, tell them to buy the fastest they can find. They can sell their own boat in part payment, or they can get her up on the quay and let her lie there, until we have gone, when they can either sell her or the new one.
 
"However, the clothes are the first thing. We cannot venture out in these, in the first place, because we might be questioned; and secondly, because we might be recognized; whereas in a fisherman's dress, with a wide oilskin hat and our faces dirtied somewhat, I don't think that anyone could know us."
 
They remained quiet until evening, and then sallied out in the disguises Brenon had obtained for them. Their first visit was to the house of Jean's friend, Desailles. It was arranged that Leigh should not go in, as Desailles would probably speak more freely to Jean, if alone. Jean had written his name on a piece of paper, folded it up, and carefully sealed it and, when he reached the house, he handed this to the woman who opened the door.
 
"This is for Citizen Desailles," he said. "I will wait. He may want to see me."
 
In a minute the servant returned, and requested him to come in. He was shown into a room where Desailles was sitting, with some papers before him. He did not speak until the servant closed the door. Then he leapt up, and held out both hands to his visitor.
 
"My dear Jean," he said, "what imprudence, what madness for you to venture here!"
 
"I don't think there is any fear of my being discovered. Even you, yourself, would scarcely know me."
 
"I know you, now you have taken that hat off; but I own that I did not recognize you before, and thought for the moment that you were but a messenger.
 
"Please do not talk loud. For aught I know, my servant has been bribed to act as a spy upon me, and may have her ear at the keyhole. To tell you the truth, Jean, things are coming to a crisis at the club. The violent party get more violent every day, and I am heartily sick of this butchers' work. I feel that, at any moment, I may be denounced."
 
"Then why on earth do you stay here, Jules? Why don't you come and throw in your lot with us?"
 
"I should have laughed at the idea, a year ago," he said; "for at that time, although I objected strongly to the doings in Paris, I yet believed that much good would come of the changes. Now I know that nothing has come of them but murder and misery, and the madness increases rather than diminishes. Hopeless as I own your struggle seems, to me, I would at least rather be killed in battle than executed here; but I would rather still get to England, if I could. As you know, I can play the violin well, and might be able to support myself, by its aid, if nothing else turned up."
 
"If you are thinking of going, Desailles, I will give you a letter to my father-in-law, at Poole. I hear that my mother and sister have escaped, and they have doubtless gone there, so you will not find yourself friendless.
 
"And now for the purpose that has brought me here. I had no idea, until I arrived, that these wretches had imprisoned my father; who is the last man to interfere in politics, and has, I am sure, never uttered a word of enmity against the Convention. I came to endeavour to rescue my wife who, as no doubt you have heard, has been seized and carried off in my absence, and my house laid in ashes. I suppose she has been brought here."
 
"Yes, I am aware of it," Jules said. "The party of horse who did it were specially sent from here. Of course you were the principal object of the expedition, but the officer was ordered to bring her, too--in the first place as your wife, in the second as an Englishwoman and therefore, of course, an enemy of France. You were denounced to the club; and as you were known to be one of the gentlemen who had joined the insurrection, and were fighting with Cathelineau and others, I knew that it would be useless to raise a voice on your behalf; having the satisfaction of feeling sure that you would be away from home when they got there, and hoping that your wife would receive notice of their coming, before they entered the house."
 
"Has she been brought here yet?"
 
"Yes, she arrived three days ago. She is in the old city prison, where your father is also confined."
 
"So far that is fortunate," Jean said.
 
"Now, how about my father? I should have thought that Jacques' influence would have been sufficient to protect him."
 
The young advocate smiled bitterly.
 
"Monsieur Jacques Martin poses as a Brutus, Jean. When your father was denounced in the club, he rose and said that he should take no part in the deliberations, that he was before all other things a patriot, and that he would not permit private affection to interfere with his duty as a citizen. In fact, my dear Jean, painful as it must be for you to hear, my opinion is that your brother has all along been playing a deep game, and that his object has been to grasp the whole of your father's business and property. It was a friend of his who denounced you at the club, when I before gave you warning; it was members of his clique who stirred the authorities up to send a small body of cavalry to capture you, and it was they also who denounced your father. Your brother is by far the most powerful of the committee of safety, as well as in the club. He assumes an air of perfect disinterestedness, and of a passionate love for the republic. His vote is always given for death. I think he takes Saint Just as his model, and repeats his assertion, that it is only by the destruction of the enemies of France that France can be freed.
 
"There is a cold bloodedness about him that sets my nerves tingling. I believe, myself, that the discovery that your father had largely reduced his stocks, and had sent the proceeds to England, decided him in either agreeing to, or bringing about, this denunciation; and that he deferred it only until he found that your mother and sister had escaped. That freed his hands, to some extent. Had they remained here, he would have been in a difficult position. Even in these days, when we are sated with horrors, he could hardly have permitted his mother and sister to be executed when, as everyone knew, he had power to save them. On the other hand, if they had remained they would have been obstacles to the success of his plan. As it is now, your father's house and all property belonging to him were declared confiscated; but the committee of safety passed a vote that, seeing the inestimable service rendered to the state by his eldest son, they would be bestowed upon him as a token of gratitude for his well doing."
 
"You scarcely surprise me," Jean said gloomily. "I never liked my brother--we had not a feeling in common, and for years he has never seemed to belong to the family; and certainly, since the troubles began, he has not set foot in my father's house. Still, I hardly believed that he would be such a scoundrel. I abhorred his opinions, but believed that he was at least sincere. I did not see what he could gain by a revolution. Now I understand his character better, and can see how cleverly he has played his cards. I cannot reckon myself with the scoundrel, deeply as he has wronged me and my father; but I should welcome the news that retribution had fallen upon him, by some other hand.
 
"And now, Jules, can you give me any advice whatever as to how to set about my scheme of getting them both out of prison?"
 
Jules shook his head.
 
"I fear, my poor friend, that that is impossible. The prison is, as you know, strong. There are, I should say, some forty warders, all ruffians and scoundrels. Any attempt to bribe even one of them would, almost to a certainty, be denounced; and it woul............