And on this let me say one more word," Blondel continued, leaning forward and speaking in sudden heat, before any one could take up the question.

"That word is this.

If it had not been for the importunity of some who are here, the warrant had _not_ been issued, the man had still been within the walls, and we had been able still to trace his plans! We had not been as we now are, and as I foretold we should be, in the dark, ignorant from which quarter the blow may fall, and not a whit the wiser for the hint given us." "You have let him escape!" The words were Petitot's.
"I?
No! I have not let him escape, but those who forced my hand!" Blondel retorted in passion, so real, or so well simulated, that it swept away the majority of his listeners.

"They have let him escape! Those who had no patience or craft! Those whose only notion of statesmanship, whose only method of making use of the document we had under our hand was to tear it up.

Only yesterday morning I was with him----" "Ay ?" Baudichon cried, his eyes glowing with dull passion.