“No, sire.”

The king then examined the structure of the door, which was braced with large plates and bars of iron, all of which converged to a secret lock, the key of which was kept by Cornelius.

After examining everything, the king sent for Tristan, and ordered him to post several of his men for the night, and with the greatest secrecy, in the mulberry trees on the embankment and on the roofs of the adjoining houses, and to assemble at once the rest of his men and escort him back to Plessis, so as to give the idea in the town that he himself would not sup with Cornelius.  Next, he told the miser to close his windows with the utmost care, that no single ray of light should escape from the house, and then he departed with much pomp for Plessis along the embankment; but there 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.