.

THE COMMITTEE'S AGENT.
It was a narrow, ill-ventilated place, with but one barred window that gave on the courtyard.

An evil-smelling lamp hung by a chain from the grimy ceiling, and in a corner of the room a tiny iron stove shed more unpleasant vapour than warm glow around.
There was but little furniture: two or three chairs, a table which was littered with papers, and a corner-cupboard--the open doors of which revealed a miscellaneous collection--bundles of papers, a tin saucepan, a piece of cold sausage, and a couple of pistols.

The fumes of stale tobacco-smoke hovered in the air, and mingled most unpleasantly with those of the lamp above, and of the mildew that penetrated through the walls just below the roof.
Heron pointed to one of the chairs, and then sat down on the other, close to the table, on which he rested his elbow.

He picked up a short-stemmed pipe, which he had evidently laid aside at the sound of the bell, and having taken several deliberate long-drawn puffs from it, he said abruptly: "Well, what is it now ?" In the meanwhile de Batz had made himself as much at home in this uncomfortable room as he possibly could.