"Yes."

"Very good. Now let us wait," said the man in the cloak.

"Let us wait," replied the coalheaver. And all was silent.

An hour passed, during which a few rare passers-by crossed the street
at intervals, but at length it became almost deserted. The few lighted
windows were darkened one after the other, and night, having now nothing
to contend with but the two lanterns, one of which was opposite the
chapel of St. Clare, and the other at the corner of the Rue Baillif, at
length reigned over the domain which it had long claimed. Another hour
passed. They heard the watch in the Rue de Valois; behind him, the
keeper of the passage came to close the door.

"Good," murmured the man in the cloak; "now we are sure not to be
interrupted."

"Provided," replied the coalheaver, "he leaves before day."

"If he were alone, we might fear his remaining, but Madame de Sabran
will scarcely keep all three."

"Peste! you are right, captain; and I had not thought of it; however,
are all your precautions taken?"----"All."

"And your men believe that it is a question of a bet?"

"They appear to believe it, at least, and we cannot ask more."

"Then it is well understood, captain. You and your people are drunk. You
push me. I fall between the regent and him who has his arm. I separate
them. You seize on him and gag him, and at a whistle the carriage
arrives, while Simiane and Ravanne are held with pistols at their
throats."

"But," answered the coalheaver, in a low voice, "if he declares his
name."

The man in the cloak replied, in a still lower tone, "In conspiracies
there are no half measures. If he declares himself, you must kill him."

"Peste!" said the coalheaver; "let us try to prevent his doing so."

There was no reply, and all was again silent. A quarter of an hour
passed, and then the center windows were lighted up.

"Ah! ah! there is something new," they both exclaimed together.

At this moment they heard the step of a man, who came from the Rue St.
Honore, and who was preparing to go the whole length of the street.

The coalheaver muttered a terrible oath; however, the man came on, but
whether the darkness sufficed to frighten him, or whether he saw
something suspicious moving there, it was evident that he experienced
some fear. As he reached the Hotel St. Clare, employing that old ruse of
cowards who wish to appear brave, he began to sing; but as he advanced,
his voice trembled, and though the innocence of t