"That is it," said Chicot, "and for greater certainty, I was to give you something in exchange, was I not?"
"A receipt."—"Yes."
"Monsieur," continued Ernanton, "I was told to carry it, but this gentleman was to deliver it." And he handed the letter to St. Maline, who gave it to Chicot.
"You see," said Ernanton, "that we have faithfully fulfilled our mission. There is no one here, and no one has seen us give you the letter."
"It is true, gentlemen; but to whom am I to give the receipt?"
"The king did not say," said St. Maline, with a meaning air.
"Write two, monsieur, and give one to each of us. It is far from this to the Louvre, and some misfortune may happen to one of us on the road," and as he spoke, Ernanton's eyes flashed in their turn.
"You are wise," said Chicot, drawing his tablets from his pocket, from which he tore out two pages and wrote on each, "Received from the hands of St. Maline the letter brought by M. Ernanton de Carmainges.—THE SHADE."
"Adieu, monsieur," said St. Maline, taking his.
"Adieu, monsieur, and a pleasant journey to you," added Ernanton. "Have you anything else to send to the Louvre?"