"No," said Dubois, after another pause, "it cannot be so. It is impossible that this young man with his calm sad face should be ready in a quarter of an hour to kill a man, and that man the first prince of the blood. No, I cannot believe in such sang-froid; and yet the regent has kept this amourette secret even from me; he goes out to hunt at St. Germains, announces aloud that he shall sleep at the Palais Royal, then all at once gives counter orders, and drives to Rambouillet. At Rambouillet, the young girl waits, and is received by Madame Desroches; who can she be watching for, if not for the regent? and this young girl is the mistress of the chevalier--but is she?--Ah! we must learn. We must find out how far we can depend on Owen," and Dubois left his observatory and waited on the staircase--he was quite hidden in the shade, and he could see Gaston's door in the light. The door presently opened, and Owen appeared. He held a letter in his hands, and after hesitating a minute, he appeared to have taken his determination, and mounted the staircase. "Good," said Dubois, "he has tasted the forbidden fruit, and he is mine." Then, stopping Owen: "Give me the letter which you were bringing me, and wait here." "How did you know I had a letter?" asked Owen, bewildered. Dubois shrugged his shoulders, took the letter, and disappeared. In his room he examined the seal; the chevalier, who had no wax, had used that on the bottle, and had sealed it with the stone of a ring. Dubois held the letter above the candle, and the wax melted. He opened the letter and read: "DEAR HELENE--Your courage has doubled mine; manage so that I can enter the house, and you shall know my plans." "Oh!" said Dubois, "it seems she does not know them yet. Things are not as far advanced as I supposed." He resealed the letter with one of the numerous rings which he wore, and which resembled that of the chevalier, and calling Owen-- "Here," said he, "is your master's letter; deliver it faithfully, bring me the answer, and you shall have ten louis." "Ah!" thought Owen, "has this man a mine of gold?" And he went off. Ten minutes after he returned with the reply. It was on scented and ornamented paper, sealed with the letter H. Dubois opened a box, took out a kind of paste in which he was about to take the impression of the seal, when he observed that from the manner in which it was folded, he could read it without opening. It was as follows: "The person who sent for me at Bretagne is coming to meet me here instead of waiting at Paris, so impatient is he, I am told, to see me. I think he will leave again to-night. Come to-morrow morning before nine. I will tell you all that has passed, and then we can arrange how to act."