She conducted him along a wide gallery to the great staircase where her lackeys waited. Then he bowed to her and she curtsied low to him, but no word was spoken by either. This little comedy must needs be played in pantomime lest the actors should spoil it with a show of broken hearts. Maria Vittoria went back to the room. She could have hindered Wogan if she had had the mind. She had the time to betray him; she knew of his purpose. But the thought of betrayal never so much as entered her thoughts. She hated him, she hated Clementina, but she was loyal to her King. She sat alone in her palace, her chin propped upon her hands, and in a little in her wide unblinking eyes the tears gathered again and rolled down her cheeks and on her hands. She wept silently and without a movement, like a statue weeping. The Chevalier found Whittington waiting for him, but the candle in his lantern had burned out. "I have kept you here a wearisome long time," he said with an effort. It was not easy for him to speak upon an indifferent matter. "I had some talk with Major Gaydon which helped me to beguile it," said Whittington. "Gaydon!" exclaimed the Chevalier, "are you certain?" "A man may make mistakes in the darkness," said Whittington. "To be sure." "And I never had an eye for faces." "It was not Gaydon, then?" said the Chevalier. "It may not have been," said Whittington, "and by the best of good fortune I said nothing to him of any significance whatever." The Chevalier was satisfied with the reply. He had chosen the right attendant for this nocturnal visit. Had Gaydon met with a more observant man than Whittington outside the Caprara Palace, he might have got a number of foolish suspicions into his head. Gaydon, however, was at that moment in his bed, saying to himself that there were many matters concerning which it would be an impertinence for him to have one meddlesome thought. By God's blessing he was a soldier and no politician. He fell asleep comforted by that conclusion. In the morning Edgar, the Chevalier's secretary, came privately to him. "The King will receive you now," said he. "Let us go." "It is broad daylight. We shall be seen." "Not if the street is empty," said Edgar, looking out of the window. The street, as it chanced, was for the moment empty. Edgar crossed the street and rapped quickly with certain pauses between the raps on the door of that deserted house into which Gaydon had watched men enter. The door was opened. "Follow me," said Edgar. Gaydon followed him into a bare passage unswept and with discoloured walls. A man in a little hutch in the wall opened and closed the door with a string.