I heard the bar jerked away, the door was flung open, and in a twinkling a lanthorn, behind which a dozen flushed visages were dimly seen, was thrust into my face.
'Why, who the fiend is this ?' one cried, glaring at me in astonishment.
'MORBLEU! It is the man!' another shrieked.

'Seize him!' In a moment half a dozen hands were laid on my shoulders, but I only bowed politely.
'The officer, my friends,' I said, 'M.

le Capitaine Larolle.

'Where is he ?' 'DIABLE! but who are you, first ?' the lanthorn-bearer retorted bluntly.
He was a tall, lanky sergeant, with a sinister face.
'Well, I am not M.de Cocheforet,' I replied; 'and that must satisfy you, my man.

For the rest, if you do not fetch Captain Larolle at once and admit me, you will find the consequences inconvenient.' 'Ho! ho!' he said with a sneer.