“I hope so. I think he has not been arrested, and as I am his wife’s confessor, if _she_ knows where he is I shall know it too.” “Very well, sir, find this man, and when you have found him bring him to me.” “We will be with you at six o’clock, my lord.” “Go, my dear curate, and may God assist you!” “And you, sir?” continued Gondy, turning to the curate of St. Sulpice. “I, my lord,” said the latter, “I know a man who has rendered great services to a very popular prince and who would make an excellent leader of revolt. Him I can place at your disposal; it is Count de Rochefort.” “I know him also, but unfortunately he is not in Paris.” “My lord, he has been for three days at the Rue Cassette.” “And wherefore has he not been to see me?” “He was told—my lord will pardon me——” “Certainly, speak.” “That your lordship was about to treat with the court.” Gondy bit his lips. “They are mistaken; bring him here at eight o’clock, sir, and may Heaven bless you as I bless you!” “And now ’tis your turn,” said the coadjutor, turning to the last that remained; “have you anything as good to offer me as the two gentlemen who have left us?” “Better, my lord.” “_Diable!_ think what a solemn engagement you are making; one has offered a wealthy shopkeeper, the other a count; you are going, then, to offer a prince, are you?” “I offer you a beggar, my lord.” “Ah! ah!” said Gondy, reflecting, “you are right, sir; some one who could raise the legion of paupers who choke up the crossings of Paris; some one who would know how to cry aloud to them, that all France might hear it, that it is Mazarin who has reduced them to poverty.” “Exactly your man.” “Bravo! and the man?” “A plain and simple beggar, as I have said, my lord, who asks for alms, as he gives holy water; a practice he has carried on for six years on the steps of St. Eustache.” “And you say that he has a great influence over his compeers?” “Are you aware, my lord, that mendacity is an organized body, a kind of association of those who have nothing against those who have everything; an association in which every one takes his share; one that elects a leader?” “Yes, I have heard it said,” replied the coadjutor. “Well, the man whom I offer you is a general syndic.” “And what do you know of him?” “Nothing, my lord, except that he is tormented with remorse.” “What makes you think so?” “On the twenty-eighth of every month he makes me say a mass for the repose of the soul of one who died a violent death; yesterday I said this mass again.” “And his name?” “Maillard; but I do not think it is his right one.” “And think you that we should find him at this hour at his post?” “Certainly.” “Let us go and see your beggar, sir, and if he is such as you describe him, you are right—it will be you who have discovered the true treasure.”