“Now, then, silence on the march through Paris! The password is ‘Dagger in pouch.’ Torches not to be lighted till we reach Notre-Dame! March!”

Ten minutes later the horsemen of the night-watch were fleeing in terror before a long procession, black and silent, pouring down towards the Pont-au-Change through the tortuous streets that run in every direction through the dense quarter of the Halles.