Blakeney having last seen Armand in Chauvelin's company, whilst he himself was moving the Simons' furniture, could not for a moment doubt that the young man was imprisoned,--unless, indeed, he was being allowed a certain measure of freedom, whilst his every step was being spied on, so that he might act as a decoy for his chief.
At thought of that all weariness seemed to vanish from Blakeney's powerful frame.

He set his lips firmly together, and once again the light of irresponsible gaiety danced in his eyes.
He had been in as tight a corner as this before now; at Boulogne his beautiful Marguerite had been used as a decoy, and twenty-four hours later he had held her in his arms on board his yacht the Day-Dream.

As he would have put it in his own forcible language: "Those d--d murderers have not got me yet." The battle mayhap would this time be against greater odds than before, but Blakeney had no fear that they would prove overwhelming.
There was in life but one odd that was overwhelming, and that was treachery.
But of that there could be no question.
In the afternoon Blakeney started off in search of lodgings for the night.

He found what would suit him in the Rue de l'Arcade, which was equally far from the House of Justice as it was from his former lodgings.

Here he would be safe for at least twenty-four hours, after which he might have to shift again.