“Where shall you be yourself?”
“Everywhere; nowhere.”
“And how shall I receive information?”
“By a courier whose horse shall be kept in the very garden of your friend. A propos, the name of your friend?”
Fouquet looked again at Gourville. The latter came to the succor of his master, saying, “Accompanying monsieur l’abbe for several reasons, only the house is easily to be known, the ‘Image-de-Notre-Dame’ in the front, a garden, the only one in the quarter, behind.”
“Good, good! I will go and give notice to my soldiers.”
“Accompany him, Gourville,” said Fouquet, “and count him down the money. One moment, abbe—one moment, Gourville—what name will be given to this carrying off?”
“A very natural one, monsieur—the Riot.”
“The riot on account of what? For, if ever the people of Paris are disposed to pay their court to the king, it is when he hangs financiers.”
“I will manage that,” said the abbe.