became impatient. 'What are you talking about? We do not know of any others.'
'You do not?' André-Louis raised his brows. Sarcasm was in his sudden smile. 'You wish me to understand, perhaps, that in Blérancourt a man may conspire alone? That this is a peculiarity of the inhabitants of the Aisne?'
The Mayor was penetrated by the acuteness of the observation.
'Name of a name!' he ejaculated, and turned to Thuillier. 'But of course the fellow must have had associates. A man does not conspire alone, as the Citizen-Agent says.'
'You perceive it? I am glad there is some intelligence in Blérancourt, even if one must rummage to find it. Well, Citizen-President, you do not appear to have been very diligent. You discover that Thorin is conspiring. You arrest him for it, and you leave the matter there. You do not take the trouble to ascertain who are his fellow conspirators. Faith! I think it is high time the Committee of Public Safety looked into the matter.'
André-Louis took up a pencil, and made some notes rapidly.
The Mayor looked blank stupefaction. Thuillier sat scowling again, but dumb. He realized that the less he said the better. Things were not quite as he had supposed at first. He must leave it for his friend Saint-Just to say what there was to be said to this pert, meddlesome young agent. He wouldn't meddle much more by the time Saint-Just had done with him. Lucas maintained an easy, interested air in the proceedings. He, after all, was merely the instrument of the executive, and there was no responsibility upon him for any of its blunders or shortcomings.
André-Louis looked up. Thuillier was to realize that this pert young meddler had not yet done with him.
'What was the nature of this conspiracy, Citizen-President? Its precise nature?'
Thuillier shifted ill-humouredly on his chair. 'Do you expect me to carry all the business of my committee in my head?'
'Why, no. Have you had many conspiracies in Blérancourt?'
'We have had no other.'
'Yet you cannot remember the nature of this, the only one? You betray but a faint interest, I fear. You will have notes, I suppose?'
'I don't know whether I have or not.'
André-Louis raised his brows, and for a long moment stared at the President.
'Citizen, let me admonish you to be serious. This man must have been before your committee for examination.'
'He was not. I examined him myself.'
'That is very irregular. But even so, you must have made some notes. A note of the case. You will have that.'
'Oh, I suppose I have. But how do I know where it is now?'
'You must seek it, Citizen-President. You do not appear even to perceive the gravity of the matter. When we have the details of the conspiracy, we should have some clue to the identity of Thorin's fellow conspirators.'
'That is true,' the Mayor agreed ponderously.
'We shall be able to track down these scoundrels who are still at large to work their evil against the Republic. You perceive that, I hope, Citizen-President.'
'I perceive it. Yes. I perceive it. Of course I perceive it.' Thuillier was at bay. He showed his teeth. 'But a thousand devils! I tell you I have no notes.'
André-Louis looked at him long and searchingly, until Thuillier got to his feet in a rage.
'Why do you stare at me?'
'You have no notes? What am I to understand by this?'
Thuillier, trusting to the protection of his friend Saint-Just, on whose behalf he had acted, permitted himself to lose his temper.
'You may understand what the devil you like. I am tired of your questions. Do you think that I am to be browbeaten by a mouchard. For that is what you are, I suppose. Do you think ...'
André-Louis interrupted him. 'Silence, my man! Silence! Sainte Guillotine! Do I represent the Committee of Public Safety, or what do I represent? Am I to have insolences from the President of a provincial revolutionary committee! Here's a fine state of things! Do you think I want speeches from you? You'll answer to what I ask you, and no more. But, indeed, I don't think there is much more to ask you.'
'I am glad of that, at least,' said Thuillier, with a toss of his dark head and in an irrepressible flash of insolence. He sat down again, and crossed his legs, a swift movement eloquent of his anger.
André-Louis looked at him keenly. Then he took up a pen, dipped it, drew a sheet of paper towards him, and wrote briskly. For a few moments there was no sound in the room but the scratching of his quill and the gusty, ill-tempered breathing of the Citizen Thuillier. At last it was done. The Agent cast aside the pen, and sat back waving the sheet so as to dry the ink. Whilst he waved it, he spoke, and now not only to Thuillier, but to Foulard as well.
'The situation, then, is this: a fortnight ago the Citizen Thorin was arrested by order of the President of the Committee of Blérancourt on a charge of conspiracy, and sent to Paris to the Conciergerie, where he remains a prisoner. I come here to discover the nature of the conspiracy and the names of those who conspired with Thorin. The President can tell me neither the one nor the other. He informs me in insolent terms that he has no notes. It is not for me to draw inferences. The Committee of Public Safety will do that. But it is already clear that only two inferences are possible. Either the Citizen-President has been criminally negligent of his duty, or else he is concerned to shield these other plotters.'
'What do you say?' Thuillier was on his feet again.
André-Louis went on, steadily and relentlessly. 'It will be for the Committee to determine which inference it will adopt. Meanwhile, my own duty is quite clear. Citizen-Mayor, will you be good enough to countersign this order?' And he held out towards Foulard the paper on which he had written.
The Mayor read; Thuillier, his face dark with rage, stared at him, and from him to André-Louis.
'What is it?' he asked at last.
'My God!' said the Mayor at the same moment.
'It is an order for your arrest, of course,' said André-Louis.
'For my arrest? Arrest me? Me?' The President recoiled. He was suddenly white under his deep tan.
'You will have perceived the necessity, Citizen-Mayor,' said André-Louis.
The Citizen-Mayor licked his lips meditatively. His red-rimmed eyes were narrowed. He took up the pen. Was André-Louis deceived, or did a smile flicker over the little man's lips as he bent to sign? It was not difficult to imagine how such a man as Thuillier, tyrannically abusing his position as President of the Revolutionary Committee, must have bullied and humiliated the Mayor, or what old scores the Mayor was now settling by that pen-stroke for which the responsibility lay elsewhere.
And then the dumbfounded Thuillier recovered himself at last.
'Are you mad? Don't sign, Foulard! Don't dare to sign! By God, man, I'll have your head for this!'
'Ha! Make a note of that threat, Boissancourt. It shall be reported with the rest. And let me remind you, Citizen Thuillier, that your own head is none so secure at this moment. You'll best protect it by a submissive conduct, reserving what else you may have to say until you come to stand your trial.' He took the paper and turned to the gaping officer. 'Here is your order, Citizen-Commandant. You will lodge the Citizen Thuillier in the local gaol, and you will hold him there pending my further orders. You will have him guarded by men of trust, and you will see to it that he holds no communications whatever without an order from me. He is to send no letters, receive no letters, and he is to be allowed to see no one at all. You are responsible for this. I warn you that the responsibility is a heavy one.'
'By God, it is!' said the livid Thuillier. 'Some of you will have to answer for this. Some of you will lose your heads over it.'
'Take him away,' said André-Louis.
The Commandant