“Politics,” remarked he, sagely, “is a great thing, faith. Sure the statesmen are always burrowing under the ground and cutting it away from beneath each others’ feet. It wouldn’t surprise me if the loss of this dispatch should bring about the recall of the French fleets that have sailed for America, and the ruin of the hopes for liberty.” “Don’t say that, Longsword,” said Ethan, a pained look in his eyes. “I hate to even think of such a thing.” “If we could only come upon the bla’guard Lascar we might gain something by it. Oh, but it’s him that’s the fox; sure nobody can hold him, it seems.” “The fact that the Earl of Selkirk went away upon a journey soon after his interview with the Lascar troubles me,” said Ethan. “It looks as though he had learned something of the paper and had set out to try to gain possession of it.” “True for ye, and it seems to me that Paris, somehow, is the place he would come for it.” “Paris! And why?” “Sure, I don’t know. But it presents itself to me that way, Master Ethan.” “Perhaps you may be right. This man Fochard is here, and it would not be at all surprising if he knew something of the matter.” “Suppose,” suggested Longsword after a pause, “that we pay a visit to this gentleman in the Rue Constantine?” “An excellent idea,” cried Ethan. “And we will put it into operation at once.” They put on their heaviest clothing, for the night was a cold one in February, and set forth. The hard frosty ground rang beneath their feet as they trudged along the rather gloomy streets. Turning into the Rue Constantine they had no trouble in finding the house of M. Fochard. The same little man in the spectacles and with the shining bald head opened the door upon the chain and looked out at them. Recognizing them at a single glance he cried: “Oh, you rogues, so you have returned. A very nice trick that was to play upon an old clerk, was it not? Shame! I almost lost my place because of you. But you will not fool me again, no, no!” “Is M. Fochard within?” asked Ethan. “He is not, and would not see you if he were! You are rogues, monsieurs; and we have nothing to do with such here!” And with that, he clapped the door in their faces and left them standing in the darkness and cold. “The old fellow seems angry,” chuckled Longsword. “I suppose his employer hauled him over the coals for letting us in that night.” “There is no use in our trying again to-night at any rate,” said Ethan. “Are you cold, Shamus?” he continued after they had turned away and retraced their steps along the Rue Constantine. “I am, faith!” answered the Irish soldier. “There is a bright, clean looking coffee house across the way. Suppose we step in and take the chill off with some coffee and a little snack--say a buttered roll or something of that sort.” “A very thoughtful suggestion. Sure, nothing would please me better.”