“That all appears feasible.  But what will be done with regard to the prisoners upon the Place de Greve?”

“This:  they must be thrust into some house — that will make a siege necessary to get them out again.  And stop! here is another idea, more sublime still:  certain houses have two issues — one upon the Place, and the other into the Rue de la Mortellerie, or la Vannerie, or la Tixeranderie.  The prisoners entering by one door will go out at another.”

“Yes; but fix upon something positive.”

“I am seeking to do so.”

“And I,” cried Fouquet, “I have found it.  Listen to what has occurred to me at this moment.”

“I am listening.”

Fouquet made a sign to Gourville, who appeared to understand.  “One of my friends lends me sometimes the keys of a house which he rents, Rue Baudoyer, the spacious gardens of which extend behind a certain house on the Place de Greve.”

“That is the place for us,” said the abbe.  “What house?”

“A cabaret, pretty well frequented, whose sign represents the image of Notre Dame.”

“I know it,” said the abbe.

“This cabaret has windows opening upon the Place, a place of exit into the court, which must abut upon the gardens of my friend by a door of communication.”

“Good!” said the abbe.

“Enter by the cabaret, take the prisoners in; defend the door while you enable them to fly by the garden and the Place Baudoyer.”

“That is all plain.  Monsieur, you would make an excellent general, like monsieur le prince.”

“Have you understood me?”

“Perfectly well.”

“How much will it amount to, to make your bandits all drunk with wine, and to satisfy them with gold?”

“Oh, monsieur, what an expression!  Oh! monsieur, if they heard you! some of them are very susceptible.”

“I mean to say they must be brought to the point where they cannot tell the heavens from the earth; for I shall to-morrow contend with the king; and when I fight I mean to conquer — please to understand.”

“It shall be done, monsieur.  Give me your other ideas.”

“That is your business.”

“Then give me your purse.”

“Gourville, count a hundred thousand livres for the abbe.”

“Good! and spare nothing, did you not say?”

“Nothing.”

“That is well.”

“Monseigneur,” objected Gourville, “if this should be known, we should lose our heads.”

“Eh!  Gourville,” replied Fouquet, purple with anger, “you excite my pity.  Speak for yourself, if you please.  My head does not shake in that manner upon my shoulders.  Now, abbe, is everything arranged?”

“Everything.”

“At two o’clock to-morrow.”

“At twelve, because it will be necessary to prepare our auxiliaries in a secret manner.”

“That is true; do not spare the wine of the cabaretier.”