"I believe you, monsieur," he said; "but I can tell you news that will render all further discussion useless: there are not at the present moment more than two hundred cartridges of powder in the magazine." But M. de Linières' smile had somewhat angered me. "Monsieur," I replied, with equal politeness, "as you do not know exactly the number of cartridges that there are in the magazine, I will go and inquire of the three soldiers there who are my prisoners on parole." "What! your prisoners on parole?" "Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte: Lieutenant-Colonel d'Orcourt, Captain Mollard and Sergeant Ragon are my prisoners on parole.... So I am going, as I had the honour of mentioning to you just now, to find out for myself what quantity of powder there is in the magazine and then I will return and inform you." I bowed and went out, looking at the sentry's shako as I did so, which bore the number 53. I was in luck; for, it will be observed, the garrison of Soissons was composed of the depot of the 53rd, and the 53rd, it will be recollected, had turned to the people's side at the very moment the Louvre was being taken. I met an officer in the street. "Are you M. Dumas?" he said. "Yes, monsieur." "Is it you who have placed the tricolour flag on the cathedral?" "Yes, monsieur." "Then go forward and fear nothing from us: the soldiers were distributing tricolour cartridges among themselves yesterday." "So I can count upon them?" "You can rely upon their keeping in their barracks." "Your name?" "Lieutenant Tuya." "Thanks!" And I entered his name in my pocket-book. "What is that for?" he asked me. "Who knows?" I replied. "When I return to the Hôtel de Ville I may find a second epaulette going begging.... You would not be angry with me for sending it you?" He began to laugh, shook his head and made off rapidly. At the same moment, I saw the officer whom I had found closeted with the commander of the fort going faster still. There was no time to be lost; no doubt he was going with orders. I quickened my pace accordingly, and was at the magazine in a trice. I knocked at the door and called out my name. "Is that you?" Bard asked. "Yes." "Good! I will open to you." "Don't trouble. Ask the officers how much powder, for artillery purposes, there is in the magazine." "All right!" I waited, and through the keyhole I could see Bard hurrying to the house. He disappeared, then reappeared after a few minutes. "Two hundred pounds!" he shouted to me. "Prodigious! It is always the way.... Now throw me over the key of the door, or slip it under, so that I can come in without disturbing you." "Here you are." "Right! Whatever you do, don't quit your post." "Make your mind easy!"