“Oh, the killing is nothing,” said de Sartines. “The vermin is well out of the way. What really matters is, that you balked Choiseul in his attempt to spy upon Dubarry’s secrets. Of course, he may never know the truth of the matter; but, if he does—well, you will need a lot of protection, and we will endeavour to find it for you. Now to the Comtesse’s business. It is quite clear that the old Béarn woman is literally out of court. Every other woman in Paris or Versailles is equally impossible, or, at least, seemingly so. I, as Minister of Police, have great power; but I am powerless to help, for to help I would have to declare my hand openly, which, as you well may guess, is impossible to one in my position. Besides, my power has limits. I cannot say to one of these Court women: ‘You _shall_ present Madame Dubarry to-night.’ No; yet all the same, I am powerful enough to ensure that presentation, I believe.” Rochefort listened with interest. It was rarely that de Sartines unbosomed himself, and when he did it was generally only to show a cuirass of steel painted to imitate flesh; but to-night was different. He knew Rochefort to be absolutely reliable to those who trusted him. “You talk in enigmas, my dear Sartines,” said the young man. “You say you are powerless, and then you say you are powerful enough to assure the presentation. Please explain yourself.” “No man can explain himself, with the exception, perhaps, of Monsieur Rousseau, whose ‘Confessions’ you have perhaps read. But a man may explain his methods. Well, my methods are these. Being by nature a rather stupid and lazy man, I seek out the cleverest and most active men I can find to act for me. People fancy that my life is spent in searching for criminals, political offenders, and so forth; on the contrary, it is spent in looking for clever men. I have one gift, without which no man can hold a position like mine. I know men.