CHAPTER XII.
The sword of Damocles.
"In the name of the Republic!" Absorbed in his thoughts, his dreams, his present happiness, Deroulede had heard nothing of what was going on in the house, during the past few seconds.
At first, to Anne Mie, who was still singing her melancholy ditty over her work in the kitchen, there had seemed nothing unusual in the peremptory ring at the front-door bell.

She pulled down her sleeves over her thin arms, smoothed down her cooking apron, then only did she run to see who the visitor might be.
As soon as she had opened the door, however, she understood.
Five men were standing before her, four of whom wore the uniform of the National Guard, and the fifth, the tricolour scarf fringed with gold, which denoted service under the Convention.
This man seemed to be in command of the others, and he immediately stepped into the hall, followed by his four companions, who at a sign from him, effectively cut off Anne Mie from what had been her imminent purpose--namely, to run to the study and warn Deroulede of his danger.
That it was danger of the most certain, the most deadly kind she never doubted for one moment.

Even had her instinct not warned her, she would have guessed.

One glance at the five men had sufficed to tell her: their attitude, their curt word of command, their air of authority as they crossed the hall--everything revealed the purpose of their visit: a domiciliary search in the house of Citizen-Deputy Deroulede.
Merlin's Law of the Suspect was in full operation.

Someone had denounced the Citizen-Deputy to the Committee of Public Safety; and in this year of grace, 1793, and I.of the Revolution, men and women were daily sent to the guillotine on suspicion.
Anne Mie would have screamed, had she dared, but instinct such as hers was far too keen, to betray her into so injudicious an act.