No wonder, I thought, but I took good care not to voice my feelings. “I have decided to compel him to consent.” “And Mademoiselle de Villars?” I questioned suspiciously. “She also wishes it. I may say”—he simpered disgustedly—“she is more anxious than I.” “Monsieur du Trémigon,” I said sternly, repressing with difficulty an inclination to kick him, “do you assure me of the truth of what you have said?” “Certainly.” “On your word of honor as a gentleman?” “As a gentleman and as a noble of France, Monsieur.” I ought to have known, but I did not, and there seemed to be nothing for me to do but accept his statement. “How do you propose to get the Duke’s consent?” I asked. “There is a way to apply pressure to him, Monsieur, which will ... let us say ... induce his consent.” “You wish to compromise her in her grandfather’s eyes?” I said, fathoming his meaning at last. “Exactly.” “But with her consent....” “Your intuition does you credit.” “That’s more than your intention does you,” I burst out scornfully. “I can afford to indulge you in these little pleasantries, my friend,” he returned, with an evil look, “because....” “Why?” I cried. “Because I intend that you shall be my agent in the little process.” “You are reckoning without your host, Monsieur,” I said quickly. I was boiling with rage. “But not without my servant, Monsieur.” “Servant?” I raged. “Yes. Do you realize that I have but to place these things in the hands of the authorities to have you clapped into prison?” “I have been in prison before and got out. I can stand it again—for the sake of a woman.” “You will doubtless get out of the prison into which I shall put you, but it will be to go to the hangman, or to the headsman if you can prove your gentle blood.” “What!” “You forget that little transaction in England. You are a highway robber! I have evidence enough to convict you beyond doubt.” “The French Government would never....” “The French Government is angry enough over the loss of those papers, and the punishment for highway robbery is death,” he sneered. “My God!” I cried. “’Tis useless to appeal to Him,” mocked du Trémigon. “Rather do you fall back on your mother-wit—if you have any—to help you.” “What do you wish me to do?” I asked desperately. “’Tis very simple. We are about the same height and build. We do not look unlike——” “You flatter me!” “’Tis the fact that does that,” he replied, bowing deeply. “In the dusk you can easily pass for me, especially if you wear a familiar suit of my clothes. I will get you into the grounds of the Hôtel de Rivau-Huet below Mademoiselle’s apartments. The building is vine-covered. Being a sailor you can easily scale the wall and enter her chamber. You are to bring me thence some article of personal wearing apparel—say a slipper, or a ring, or——” “Is that all?” “That’s all.” “Why don’t you do it yourself?” “It is hardly necessary to enter upon that, Monsieur.”