The next problem was the much more difficult one of getting Gerard out of the Governor’s hands. This must be done by force if necessary and in the last resort; and a place must be provided to which he could be brought, where a stand could be made with some hope of holding the Governor at bay until d’Alembert could reach the city with the troops. Malincourt was obviously the best place for such a stand. It was strongly built, had ample room for the necessary force of men, and was sure to contain a store of provisions which could be increased without any suspicion being raised. Moreover, he believed there were arms there. He instructed the men in the city, therefore, to go in their monk’s gabardines and purchase each for himself enough provision for three days, on the plea that they were setting out on a pilgrimage on the morrow; after which they were to remain in readiness for a summons to meet him at any hour. Having the first steps arranged, he returned to Malincourt, omitting in his haste to put off his monk’s gown. He meant to see Gabrielle and tell her plainly what his plans were, and consult with her as to the best means of rescuing Gerard and Dubois. Here came a check, however. Gabrielle was not at the maison; and as he stood in the great hall considering how he could best find her, he was seen by Jacques Dauban. The spy had been sent back to Malincourt by de Proballe to fetch away certain papers which now that the maison was shut to him, were too incriminating to be left there. It was Dauban who had carried the news to the Governor’s Castle that Gerard was not really de Cobalt, and having been a witness of Dubois’ arrest, was struck by the fact that another monk, of the same order apparently, should be found at Malincourt. Scenting a mystery he resolved to follow it up. Pascal, unwilling to be recognized in his disguise, would have avoided him, but Dauban made this impracticable, and thus Pascal was reduced to the device of drawing his cowl close so as to hide his features so far as possible. “Give you gooden, good father?” began Dauban. “_Pax vobiscum_, son,” replied Pascal, deepening and altering his voice. “Can I help you, father? I am of the household here--the secretary.” “Then truly you may. I have a message I would deliver to miladi of Malincourt, and would have speech with her.” “I know her business well and am high in her confidence. Is it a matter of urgency? I am even now on my way to her.” “Could you get to her at once, or deliver a letter secretly?” “That would be easy enough--the letter I mean.” “Can I trust you?” Dauban met the piercing eyes fixed on him through the close drawn cowl, as if in suspicion, and answered as he thought with cunning frankness. “That must be as you please. Miladi herself does. But you must decide quickly, for she waits for me.” The monk appeared to hesitate and glancing round lowered his tone. “Do you know aught of this business of the so-called Gerard de Cobalt?”