“Then get your hundred and twenty men together, abbe.” “Directly. But where?” “On the road to Vincennes, to-morrow, at two o’clock precisely.” “To carry off Lyodot and D’Eymeris? There will be blows to be got!” “A number, no doubt; are you afraid?” “Not for myself, but for you.” “Your men will know, then, what they have to do?” “They are too intelligent not to guess it. Now, a minister who gets up a riot against his king—exposes himself——” “Of what importance is that to you, I pray? Besides, if I fall, you fall with me.” “It would then be more prudent, monsieur, not to stir in the affair, and leave the king to take this little satisfaction.” “Think well of this, abbe, Lyodot and D’Eymeris at Vincennes are a prelude of ruin for my house. I repeat it—I arrested, you will be imprisoned—I imprisoned, you will be exiled.” “Monsieur, I am at your orders; have you any to give me?” “What I told you—I wish that, to-morrow, the two financiers of whom they mean to make victims, whilst there remain so many criminals unpunished, should be snatched from the fury of my enemies. Take your measures accordingly. Is it possible?” “It is possible.” “Describe your plan.” “It is of rich simplicity. The ordinary guard at executions consists of twelve archers.” “There will be a hundred to-morrow.” “I reckon so. I even say more—there will be two hundred.” “Then your hundred and twenty men will not be enough.” “Pardon me. In every crowd composed of a hundred thousand spectators, there are ten thousand bandits or cut-purses—only they dare not take the initiative.” “Well?” “There will then be, to-morrow, on the Place de Greve, which I choose as my battle-field, ten thousand auxiliaries to my hundred and twenty men. The attack commenced by the latter, the others will finish it.” “That all appears feasible. But what will be done with regard to the prisoners upon the Place de Greve?” “This: they must be thrust into some house—that will make a siege necessary to get them out again. And stop! here is another idea, more sublime still: certain houses have two issues—one upon the Place, and the other into the Rue de la Mortellerie, or la Vennerie, or la Texeranderie. The prisoners entering by one door will go out at another.” “Yes, but fix upon something positive.” “I am seeking to do so.” “And I,” cried Fouquet, “I have found it. Listen to what has occurred to me at this moment.” “I am listening.” Fouquet made a sign to Gourville, who appeared to understand. “One of my friends lends me sometimes the keys of a house which he rents, Rue Baudoyer, the spacious gardens of which extend behind a certain house on the Place de Greve.” “That is the place for us,” said the abbe. “What house?” “A cabaret, pretty well frequented, whose sign represents the image of Notre Dame.” “I know it,” said the abbe.