“_Mordieu_! but you did that easily,” whispered Rochefort, filled with admiration and not knowing that Ferminard’s courage was due mainly to an imagination that was not very keen and a head that vertigo did not easily affect. “Now let us keep to the shadow of the moat for a moment till that cloud comes over the moon. There are sentries on the battlements.” “Monsieur,” whispered Ferminard, “it just occurred to me as I was coming down the rope that when our flight is discovered, they may hunt along the roads for us, but they will not warn the gates of Paris to be on the look-out for us, simply because, were we caught, some of M. de Choiseul’s agents might be at the catching, there would be talk, and the discovery might be made that we had been imprisoned secretly to keep us out of M. de Choiseul’s way.” “_Ma foi_!” said Rochefort, “there is truth in that—however, it remains to be seen. Ah, here comes the shadow.” A cloud was slowly drawing across the moon’s face, and in the deep shadow that swept across castle and road and country, the two fugitives scrambled from the moat, found the road and started towards Paris. CHAPTER VII ROCHEFORT’S PLAN That night, or, rather, early next morning, the Vicomte de Chartres was returning to his house in the Rue Malaquais and had just entered the street when, against the setting moon, he saw a form coming towards him which he thought he recognized. It was Rochefort. Chartres was one of the few men in Paris whom Rochefort numbered as his bosom friends. He could not believe his eyes at first, and when Rochefort spoke, Chartres scarcely believed his ears. Rochefort, of whose flight all Paris was talking, Rochefort, the man who was supposed to be far beyond the frontier, Rochefort in the Rue Malaquais, walking along as calmly and jauntily as though nothing had happened. “Ah, my dear fellow,” said Rochefort as they shook hands, “what a fortunate meeting! Where have you sprung from?” Chartres broke into a laugh. “Where have I sprung from? You to ask that question! On the contrary, my dear fellow, it is for me to ask where you have sprung from?” “Nowhere,” replied Rochefort, also laughing, “or at least from a place I cannot talk of here in the street. I want shelter for the night and a change of clothes; here is your house and we are both about the same size, and I know you have always half a dozen new suits that you have never worn. So, if you want my story, take me and clothe me, and let me rest for a while before I set out on my mission to hunt for M. de Choiseul.” “To hunt for M. de Choiseul! _Bon Dieu_! Are not you aware that he is ransacking Paris and all France for you?” “Then we are both on the same business, and that being so, I think it is highly probable we shall meet.” He followed Chartres into the house, where in the library and armoury his host lit lamps and produced wine. The clock on the mantel pointed to two o’clock.