“But how do you know all this so accurately?” asked the colonel in surprise.  “One would really suppose you had been present, yet I distinctly remember that this was not the case.”

“No, I was not; but you probably know that a certain Commissioner Kraus was there.  Bernadotte had made the acquaintance of this Herr Kraus at Colonel Oudet’s, who, as is well-known, is the head of the secret society, which existed in the French army, and to whose laws all members, or, if you choose, all fellow-conspirators, were compelled to submit.  Oudet had recommended Kraus to the Prince of Ponte Corvo as a faithful and reliable man, a skillful negotiator, who was qualified to maintain and to promote the agreements and alliances between the French conspirators and the German patriots, and who could be employed without fear or reserve.  Well, this Commissioner Kraus, as you probably know, had come to Ebersdorf to negotiate in behalf of myself and my German friends, and to ask whether the time had not now come to accomplish the great work and rid Germany of the scourge which God had sent in punishment of all her sins.  Commissioner Kraus described that scene in the great hall of Castle Ebersdorf.  He returned as your messenger, and brought us the news that we must keep quiet and wait for further tidings, and, after bringing this message, he went to Paris to Fouche, the minister of police, to deliver the letter and inquiry of the conspirators.”

“And he has not yet returned,” said Mariage, sighing.  “Some misfortune has befallen him; the emperor’s spies have doubtless tracked him, and he has atoned for his reckless enterprise with his life.”

“No, Kraus is too clever and too bold to let himself be discovered by Napoleon’s spies,” said the baron with a subtle smile, “and, since Monsieur Bonaparte must fare like the worthy citizens of Nuremberg who hang no one until they have caught him, Commissioner Kraus has not been compelled to atone for his bold enterprise with his life, but has returned successful and unharmed.”

“What?  He has returned?”

“Four days ago.”

“Four days ago, and I, we all, know nothing of it?”

“Yes, I knew it.  Surely you are aware that Fouche was not to direct his reply directly to any one of you, to a subject of the emperor, in order, in case of discovery, to compromise no one.  So Fouche addressed his reply to me; for if the letter had actually been opened, it could have done Baron von Moudenfels no harm, since fortunately I am not one of the emperor’s subjects, and what he could punish in you as high-treason, he must recognize in us Germans as patriotism.”

“But the letter, Fouche’s answer!” said Mariage impatiently.  “Pray do not keep me on the rack any longer.  What does Fouche write?”

“Why, his letter is tolerably laconic, and one must understand how to read between the lines to interpret the meaning correctly.  Here it is.  You see that it is directed to me—­Baron von Moudenfels—­and contains nothing but the following words:  ’Why ask me anything, when you ought already to have accomplished everything yourselves?  Put him in a sack, drown him in the Danube—­then all will be easily arranged everywhere.’"[C]