They were dressed in the uniform of the town-guard, but had evidently been picked out of the rank and file, for all six were exceptionally tall and stalwart, and towered above the sentinel, who saluted and presented arms as they marched out of the gate.
In the midst of them walked a slight, dark figure, clad entirely in black, save for the tricolour scarf round his waist.
The crowd of watchers gazed on the little party with suddenly awakened interest.
"Who is it ?" whispered some of the men.
"The citizen-governor," suggested one.
"The new public executioner," ventured another.
"No! no!" quoth Pierre Maxime, the doyen of Boulogne fishermen, and a great authority on every matter public or private with the town; "no, no he is the man who has come down from Paris, the friend of Robespierre.
He makes the laws now, the citizen-governor even must obey him.

'Tis he who made the law that if the woman up yonder should escape..." "Hush!...

sh!...

sh!..." came in frightened accents from the crowd.
"Hush, Pierre Maxine!...

the Citizen might hear thee," whispered the man who stood closest to the old fisherman; "the Citizen might hear thee, and think that we rebelled...." "What are these people doing here ?' queried Chauvelin as he passed out into the street.
"They are watching the prison, Citizen," replied the sentinel, whom he had thus addressed, "lest the female prisoner should attempt to escape." With a satisfied smile, Chauvelin turned toward the Town Hall, closely surrounded by his escort.