og to this house, an
empty house in the Montmartre Faubourg. You watched, and saw the man
leave, and followed him; he took the alarm, fled, and dropped in his
flight the dog's coat. I think I see it there. On that you hurried with
the coat to Monseigneur, and gave him the address of the house, and----"

"And the dog!" I exclaimed.

"No. Let Monseigneur come and find the dog for himself," he answered,
smiling. "In the closet."

I felt the blood tingle through all my limbs. "But if he comes, and does
not find it?" I cried.

The stranger shrugged his shoulders. "He will find it," he said coolly.
And slightly raising his voice, he called "Flore! Flore!" For answer a
dog whined behind a door, and scratched the panels, and whined again.

The stranger nodded, and his eyes sparkled as if he were pleased.
"There," he said, "you have it. It is there and will be there. And I
think that is all. Only keep two things in mind, my friend. For the
first, a person will claim our share of the reward at the proper time:
for the second, I would be careful not to tell Monseigneur the President
of the Council"--again that faint note of irony--"the true story, lest a
worse thing happen!" And the stranger, with a very ugly smile, touched
his throat.

"I will not!" I said, shuddering. "But----?"

"But what?"

"But I may not," I said faintly--I hated the Bishop--"I may not get
speech of Monseigneur. May I not then take the news to the Palais Royal
and--and let the Queen know directly? Or go with it to the Cardinal?"

"No, you may not!" he said, with a look and in a tone that sent a shiver
down my back. "The Cardinal? What has the Cardinal to do with it?
Understand! You must do precisely that and that only which I have told
you, and add not a jot nor a tittle to it!"

"I will do it," I muttered in haste. My spite against the Bishop was a
small thing beside my neck. And there was the reward!

"Good! Then--then, I think that is all," he answered, seeing in my face,
I think, that I was minded to be obedient. "And I may say farewell.
Until we meet again, adieu, Monsieur Prosper! Adieu, and remember!" And
setting on his hat with a polite gesture, he turned his back to me, went
out into the sunlight, passed to the left, and vanished. I heard the
garden door close with a crash, and then, silence--silence, broken only
by the faint whine of the dog, as it moved in its prison.

Was I alone? I waited awhile before I dared to move; and even when