“M. Camus, M. de Monpavon, M. d’Estouteville,” cried he, “I commission you. M. de Rochefort has not yet left the palace. Seize him and bring him here. If he has left the palace, pursue him and bring him here. I place the Gardes, and the Suisses and the police of M. Sartines at your disposal.” He turned rapidly to a writing-table, sat down, and dashed off three warrants in the following terms: “URGENCY. “The bearer is empowered to seize and arrest the person of Charles Eugène Montargis, Comte de Rochefort, and to call on all French citizens to assist in such arrest. “Signed, DE CHOISEUL, “Minister.” He sanded each paper when written and passed it over his shoulder to the hands waiting to receive it. “If possible,” said he, “make the arrest yourselves, without the help of Sartines’ men. You are my accredited agents.” When the three gentlemen had each received his commission and warrant they turned, led by Camus, and left the room swiftly and without a word. They entered the Chamber of Presentations, divided, passed through the room from door to door, through the thinning crowd, and drew it blank. Rochefort had left. The great clock of the chamber pointed to seven minutes past the half-hour. CHAPTER XI FLIGHT When Rochefort took his leave of Sartines and left the Chamber of Presentations, he made full speed for the corridor leading to the Escalier des Ambassadeurs, passed down the great staircase rapidly, pushed his way through the crowd thronging the hall, found Jaquin, the usher, on duty, and seizing him: “Where is Monsieur Bertrand?” asked Rochefort. “He is, no doubt, in the Cabinet of the Equipages, monsieur,” replied the usher. “Good,” said Rochefort. His carriage was waiting in the courtyard, but a carriage was too slow for his present purpose. He wanted a horse, and a swift horse, for the journey to Paris—wings, if possible, failing them, the swiftest horse in his Majesty’s stables. Bertrand was the keeper of his Majesty’s horses, and Rochefort’s friend. The Cabinet of the Equipages was a moderately sized apartment. Here the King arranged each day what horses, what carriages and attendants he would require, and here Rochefort found his friend, deep in accounts and reports. “My dear Bertrand,” said the Comte, “you see a man in a most desperate hurry. I must get to Paris at once. My carriage is too slow, and I have come to beg or steal a horse.” Bertrand threw up his hands. “Impossible! I have already been called to account for lending horses to my friends in a hurry. Ask me anything else, my dear Rochefort—my purse, my life, my heart—but a horse, no, a thousand times, no.” “Ah, well,” said Rochefort, “I must tell a lie, and you will know the desperate urgency of my business from the fact that it makes me lie to you. Well, then, I come from de Sartines with an order of urgency. I am commanded to ask for your swiftest horse on a matter of State business.”