We met M. Quinette, the second friend whom Hutin had mentioned to me, in the street. He had come to join us. It was rather late, as will be seen, especially since he was soon to leave us. His advice was that we ought to do things legally and that, to this end, I must be assisted by the mayor. I had no objection to this proposition, as I had possession of my order, so I went to find the mayor. I have forgotten the name of that worthy magistrate: I only remember that he made no difficulty about accompanying me. Accordingly, five minutes later, accompanied by the mayor, Hutin, Moreau and Quinette, I cautiously opened the gate of the Saint-Jean cloisters, first having notified to Bard that it was I who was opening it. "Come in, come in!" he replied. I entered and saw the cannon in position, but, to my great astonishment, Bard had disappeared. He was twenty yards from his cannon, perched up in a plum tree eating green plums! [1] I believe I ought to take the precaution, at the conclusion of this story that I took at the beginning, namely, to refer my reader to the _Moniteur_ of 9 August 1830, in case they think I have been romancing. See the notes at the end of this volume. CHAPTER VII The Mayor of Soissons--The excise-office powder--M. Jousselin--The hatchet belonging to the warehouse-keeper--M. Quinette--I break open the door of the powder magazine--Triumphant exit from Soissons--M. Mennesson attempts to have me arrested--The Guards of the Duc d'Orléans--M. Boyer--Return to Paris--"Those devils of Republicans!" Now, thanks to M. Quinette's excellent advice, no one could have been acting more legally than we were, since we were proceeding (like Bilboquet) _with the mayors authorisation._ So Lieutenant-Colonel d'Orcourt hastened to open the artillery powder magazine to us. It was the shed on the right of the door as we entered. We hardly found two hundred pounds of powder in it, as a matter of fact. I was preparing to carry it off when the mayor laid claim to it for the defence of the town. The claim was fair enough, only, as I had decided to carry powder to Paris, no matter what the quantity might be, it seemed likely I should have to go through the same scenes with the mayor as I had with the commander of the fort, when Lieutenant-Colonel d'Orcourt approached me and said in a whisper-- "There is certainly only about two hundred pounds of powder in the artillery magazine, but in the shed opposite there are three thousand pounds belonging to the town." I opened my eyes wide. "Say that again," I said. "Three thousand pounds of powder there"; and he pointed to the shed. "Then let us open it and take the powder." "Yes, but I haven't the key." "Where is it?" "M. Jousselin, the storehouse-keeper has it." "Where does he live?" "One of these gentlemen will show you." "Very good!" I turned towards the mayor.