"The good of the Cause? You speak in riddles, my friend!" "It is necessary, monsieur; as it is, I have spoken too much." "But you will answer one other question? Why did that wretched Francois prowl about the Rue Crillon?" Pillot burst into a peal of such merry laughter that I thought he would be choked, and it was long before he could reply. "Pardon me, monsieur," he exclaimed at length, "but really the joke was excellent. Francois acted the spy only when you were about; and simply to attract your attention. He was the bait, and you--pardon the expression--were the fish, though I, for one, did not expect to see you landed so easily." Pillot's explanation made the affair a trifle plainer, and showed how foolishly I had acted. Instead of being a stupid dolt, this Francois was really a clever fellow, who had tricked me admirably. My cheeks burned as I saw what a dupe I had been. As a matter of fact, he could have slipped away at any moment, instead of which he had purposely lured me on. His hesitation at the corner of the _cul-de-sac_, his apparent attempt to dash past me, his whining answers, all had their purpose, and, while I reckoned myself master of the situation, Pillot and the third man were creeping out of their hiding-places. Truly, I had myself been a stupid dolt! Still there was one point which puzzled me, and I asked Pillot why the fellow waited so long before playing his trick. "Francois obeys orders," he replied. "It would not have suited our purpose to have shut you up before last night." This sounded mysterious, but Pillot would not enlighten me further, and alone I could make nothing of it. Except on one point, the dwarf talked freely enough, and was a very agreeable gaoler. A true child of Paris, he knew the city well, and having been mixed up in all sorts of adventures, was able to relate numerous startling stories. The time passed pleasantly enough till about eleven o'clock, when he went away, and his place was taken by the man called Pierre. At first I was rather glad of the change, imagining this fellow might be more simple, as indeed he was; so simple, in fact, that he knew nothing. He was a short man with a massive head, thick neck, broad shoulders, and limbs like those of a gladiator. He sniffed contemptuously at the pistols which Pillot had left, but handled a huge iron-shod club lovingly, and on being spoken to, grunted like a pig. Sitting on the straw, he laid the club beside him, and, having cleared a space, produced a dice-box and dice, with which he played left hand against right. After watching this monotonous game for half-an-hour, and finding Pierre absolutely deaf to my questions, I turned my face to the wall and tried to think. Pillot's conversation had explained many things, but unfortunately it threw no light on the reason for my imprisonment. He had not denied that De Retz was the man behind the curtain, but what was it the Abbe wished me to do?