“Let us go into the ball-room,” said Coigny; “we can talk there without being overheard in the crush. Did you get my note asking you to be sure to come to-night?” “Yes, I got your note. Why were you so anxious for me to come?” “For a very good reason. There are great things in the air.” “Ah! Something about the Dubarry, I wager.” “You are right. The case is desperate, and you know the only cure for a desperate case is a desperate remedy.” “Go on.” “She is due at Versailles at nine o’clock to-morrow evening. Well, we are going to steal her carriage, her dress and her hairdresser.” “Dubarry’s?” “Yes, Dubarry’s.” “And you want me——” “To help.” “And when is this theft to be made?” “To-morrow, at six o’clock in the evening. We cannot entrust this business to servants. I have a friend who will look after the milliner, I myself will attend to the hairdresser, and you, my dear Camus, must look after the carriage.” “Let us clearly understand each other,” said Camus. “You propose to suppress a hairdresser, a carriage and a gown. Is this to be done by brute force, or how?” “By bribery.” “Have you approached the milliner, the hairdresser, and the coachman on the subject?” “Heavens no! The thing is to be done at the last moment; give them time to think and they would talk.” “And who is to pay the bribes?” “Choiseul; who else? It will cost three hundred thousand francs; but were it to cost a million, the million is there.” “And suppose they resist?” “That has also been taken into consideration. If they resist, then force must be used. You must have five companions ready to your call, should you need them.” “I can easily find five men,” said Camus. “I have only to whisper the name of Dubarry, and they would spring from the pavement.” “They must all be gentlemen,” said Coigny, “for in an affair of this sort, nothing must be trusted to servants.” “Just so. Who are the coach people?” “Landry, in the Rue de la Harpe. The carriage is finished, and the varnish is drying on it. But Landry has nothing to do with it. Your business concerns the coachman, Mathieu. You must get hold of this man, and, having put him out of the way, assume the Dubarry livery, call for the coach at Landry’s, and drive it to the devil—or anywhere you like but the Rue de Valois.” “And the footmen?” “Your genius must dispose of those. Send them into a cabaret for a drink, and drive off while they are drinking. That is all detail.” “But Landry will recognize that I am not Mathieu.” “You can easily meet that. You can say he is ill, or better, drunk. He has a reputation for getting drunk, and there is nothing like a bad reputation to help a good plan, sometimes.” “_Ma foi_!” said Camus, “if that is the case, you ought to use Dubarry’s reputation. Well, I agree. But Choiseul ought to make me a duke at least, for it would be worth a dukedom to see Dubarry’s face when she finds out the trick, and I will be out of all that.”