e he secretly left his escort, and returned by
a door in the ramparts to the house of the torconnier. All these
precautions were so well taken that the people of Tours really thought
the king had returned to Plessis, and would sup on the morrow with
Cornelius.

Towards eight o'clock that evening, as the king was supping with his
physician, Cornelius, and the captain of his guard, and holding much
jovial converse, forgetting for the time being that he was ill and in
danger of death, the deepest silence reigned without, and all passers,
even the wariest robber, would have believed that the Malemaison was
occupied as usual.

"I hope," said the king, laughing, "that my silversmith shall be robbed
to-night, so that my curiosity may be satisfied. Therefore, messieurs,
no one is to leave his chamber to-morrow morning without my order, under
pain of grievous punishment."

Thereupon, all went to bed. The next morning, Louis XI. was the first to
leave his apartment, and he went at once to the door of the strong-room.
He was not a little astonished to see, as he went along, the marks of
a large foot along the stairways and corridors of the house. Carefully
avoiding those precious footprints, he followed them to the door of
the treasure-room, which he found locked without a sign of fracture or
defacement. Then he studied the direction of the steps; but as they grew
gradually fainter, they finally left not the slightest trace, and it was
impossible for him to discover where the robber had fled.

"Ho, crony!" called out the king, "you have been finely robbed this
time."

At these words the old Fleming hurried out of his chamber, visibly
terrified. Louis XI. made him look at the foot-prints on the stairs and
corridors, and while examining them himself for the second time, the
king chanced to observe the miser's slippers and recognized the type of
sole that was printed in flour on the corridors. He said not a word, and
checked his laughter, remembering the innocent men who had been hanged
for the crime. The miser now hurried to his treasure. Once in the room
the king ordered him to make a new mark with his foot beside those
already existing, and easily convinced him that the robber of his
treasure was no other than himself.

"The pearl necklace is gone!" cried Cornelius. "There is sorcery in
this. I never left my room."

"We'll know all about it now," said the king; the evident truthfulness
of his silversmith making him still