and deaf. I will see and hear nothing, warn no one, unless
I am forced to warn the conspirators."

"In that case you will have the kindness to send your friend, Captain de
Guesniard, to St. Stephens. One of our emissaries will be waiting night and
day at the entrance of the main door of the cathedral, and every message he
receives will be faithfully brought to us."

"But who will it be? How is De Guesniard to recognize your confidant?"

"Who will it be? To-day our messenger at the door of St. Stephens will be a
beggar-woman, to-morrow perhaps a blind cripple, the day after a priest, a
lady, or some other person who would not rouse suspicion. The token by
which to recognize the envoy will be a strip of blue paper, held in the
left hand."

"Well, that will suffice. You have nothing more to say, baron?"

"No, colonel. So you will have the kindness to see and hear nothing for the
space of a week, but if, at the end of that time, you learn the news that
the Emperor Napoleon has disappeared, you will hear it with the joy of a
true patriot. It will be reserved for you to set off at once with post
horses to bear to the Count de Lille in England this message of the rescue
and purification of his throne."

"Ah, that is indeed a delightful and honorable task," cried the colonel
joyously. "Heaven grant that it may be executed."

"It will be, for our arrangements are well made, and we are all anxious to
do our utmost to regain the greatest of blessings, over liberty. Farewell,
Colonel Mariage, in a week we shall see each other again."

"In a week or never," sighed Colonel Mariage, pressing the baron's
proffered hand in his own.

CHAPTER V.

COMMISSIONER KRAUS.

After taking leave of Colonel Mariage, old Baron von Moudenfels passed
through the antechamber, where he found the valet, with slow and weary
steps. Panting and resting on every stair, he descended the staircase,
coughing, and moved slowly past the houses to the nearest carriage, into
which he climbed with difficulty and sank with a groan upon the cushions.

"Where shall I drive, your lordship?" asked the hackman, lifting his whip
to rouse the weary nags from their half slumber.

"Where? I don't know myself, my friend," replied the old man, sighing. "I
only want to ride about a little while to rest my poor old limbs and get
some fresh air. So take me through the busiest streets in Vienna, that I
may see them. I am a stranger who has seen little of your c