"In the name of the wandering Ulysses, Placide, where have you been these two good hours?" said Jerome, suddenly coming toward me. "Has it been so long? I tired of the crowd and strolled alone through the gardens." His quick eye caught sight of the handkerchief tucked snugly in my belt. "A lady? And so soon?" he bantered me. My tell-tale flush permitted no denial, nor did I care to discuss it. As we talked we drifted into a small room just off the main hall. "By the way, Placide, had we better not place our dispatches in some safe hiding until we leave here? It might be suspected we have them. The devil only knows what that scheming de Valence and du Maine may not unearth. Their spies are everywhere." I agreed with him. It was as well; anything to gain time and allay suspicion. But I understood my lady's warning was true; his earnestness convinced me. "Where do you carry them?" "Sewn in the lining of my cloak," I replied. A lie, but pardonable. "Why, you careless fellow; they maybe lost. Where is your cloak?" seeing I did not have it. "In charge of Damien; he is trusty." "Better have it yourself; wait here, I will go and fetch it." I congratulated myself on this diplomatic stroke, for Jerome was about to start off in all haste when Damien himself appeared, and before I could stop him, delivered the message. "The horses are saddled and at the door." "Go and wait with them." Jerome had taken my cloak from the fellow's arm, for in fact he had it, and now laid it across his knee. His blank expression showed utter astonishment at the disclosure. "What does this mean? We are to rest here to-night?" "No; I ride to Paris." "Why?" "I am afraid." "Of what?" "Of everything. We are in the house of our enemies, and it is the quality of courage to be discreet." During this brief dialogue Jerome was stealthily running his hands through the lining of my cloak until he comprehended I had misled him. I could almost put his thought in words. Together we arose, laying each our hands upon the half-closed door, he to hold it, I to open it, steady-eyed, and each reluctant to cause the breach we knew must come. "Placide, the papers are not here," he said in a quiet tone, yet full of determination. "I know it." "Why have you deceived me then?" for he could mask his purposes no longer, "Hand me those dispatches." "No. My orders are to place them in the hands of Serigny." "But I must have them." "And I tell you as firmly, you can not." "Listen, Captain," he begged in altered tones, "those dispatches may compromise Celeste. Let us take from them anything which implicates her in this miserable intrigue, and deliver the rest. That is easy. I can open and close them again so it can not be told." "My orders are not to open them."