Morgan, without answering, drew a letter from his pocket and gave it to the general. Bonaparte examined it. It was addressed to him, and the seal bore the three fleurs-de-lis of France. “Oh!” he said, “what is this, sir?” “Read it, citizen First Consul.” Bonaparte opened the letter and looked at the signature: “Louis,” he said. “Louis,” repeated Morgan. “What Louis?” “Louis de Bourbon, I presume.” “Monsieur le Comte de Provençe, brother of Louis XVI.” “Consequently Louis XVIII., since his nephew, the Dauphin, is dead.” Bonaparte looked at the stranger again. It was evident that Morgan was a pseudonym, assumed to hide his real name. Then, turning his eyes on the letter, he read: January 3, 1800. Whatever may be their apparent conduct, monsieur, men like you never inspire distrust. You have accepted an exalted post, and I thank you for so doing. You know, better than others, that force and power are needed to make the happiness of a great nation. Save France from her own madness, and you will fulfil the desire of my heart; restore her king, and future generations will bless your memory. If you doubt my gratitude, choose your own place, determine the future of your friends. As for my principles, I am a Frenchman, clement by nature, still more so by judgment. No! the conqueror of Lodi, Castiglione and Arcola, the conqueror of Italy and Egypt, cannot prefer an empty celebrity to fame. Lose no more precious time. We can secure the glory of France. I say we, because I have need of Bonaparte for that which he cannot achieve without me. General, the eyes of Europe are upon you, glory awaits you, and I am eager to restore my people to happiness. LOUIS. Bonaparte turned to the young man, who stood erect, motionless and silent as a statue. “Do you know the contents of this letter?” he asked. The young man bowed. “Yes, citizen First Consul.” “It was sealed, however.” “It was sent unsealed under cover to the person who intrusted it to me. And before doing so he made me read it, that I might know its full importance.” “Can I know the name of the person who intrusted it to you?” “Georges Cadoudal.” Bonaparte started slightly. “Do you know Georges Cadoudal?” he asked. “He is my friend.” “Why did he intrust it to you rather than to another?” “Because he knew that in telling me to deliver the letter to you with my own hand it would be done.” “You have certainly kept your promise, sir.” “Not altogether yet, citizen First Consul.” “How do you mean? Haven’t you delivered it to me?” “Yes, but I promised to bring back an answer.” “But if I tell you I will not give one.” “You will have answered; not precisely as I could have wished, but it will be an answer.” Bonaparte reflected for a few moments. Then shaking his shoulders to rid himself of his thoughts, he said: “They are fools.” “Who, citizen?” asked Morgan.