rom his pocket, and flicked it flat in the
candle light.

"Come, Henry, draw up a chair, and let us be sensible. Another bottle of
Madeira, Brutus. And now, tell me, what do you know of French politics?"

"Sir," I objected, "it seems to me you are forgetting the point. What
have politics to do with you and me?"

It seemed to me I saw another opportunity. With a sense of elation I did
my best to conceal, I watched him quickly drain his glass, and I thought
his eyes were brighter, and his gestures less careful and alert.

"Politics," he said, "and politics alone, Henry, are responsible for this
evening's entertainment. Surely you have perceived that much. The
glasses, Brutus, watch the glasses! These are parlous times, my son." He
raised his glass again--

"Mademoiselle will tell you as much. We made an interesting journey
through the provinces, did we not, my lady? It is a pity your father, the
Marquis, could not have enjoyed it with us. He had a penchant for
interesting situations, and in France today anything may happen. In a few
scant months dukes have turned into pastry cooks, and barbers' boys into
generals. Tomorrow it may be a republic, or a monarchy that governs, or
some bizarre contrivance that is neither one nor the other. Just now it
is Napoleon Bonaparte, a very determined little man. Ah, you have heard
of him, my son? I sometimes wonder if he will not go further than many of
us think."

Yes, we had already begun to hear his name in America. We had already
begun to wonder how soon his influence would be overthrown, for it was in
the days before he had consolidated his power. He was still existing in a
maze of plots, still facing royalists and revolutionists, all conspiring
to seize the reins.

"I sometimes wonder, Mademoiselle," he continued thoughtfully, "if your
friends realized the task before them when they attempted to kill
Napoleon. Ah, now you grow interested, my son? Yes, that is what this
paper signifies. Written on this paper are the signatures of fifty
men--signatures to an oath to kill Napoleon Bonaparte and to restore a
king to France. You will agree with me it is a most original and
intriguing document."

"So they didn't kill him," I said.

"Indeed not," he replied; "quite the contrary. They gave him a new
lease of life."

"Then why," I demanded, "didn't they burn the paper. Why--"

"Ah!" said my father, with an indulgent smile. "There you have it, to be
sure. You have hit the root