Little newsheets were passing from hand to hand and newsdealers were calling out:
“Buy the Great Treason of Mirabeau!”
“It seems this concerns me,” he said, taking a piece of money out. “My friend,” he said to one of the venders who had a donkey carrying panniers full of the sheets, “how much is this Great Treason of Mirabeau?”
“Nothing to you, my lord,” replied the man, looking him in the eye, “and it is struck off in an edition of one hundred thousand.”
The orator went away thoughtful. A lampoon in such an edition and given away by a newsman who knew him!
Still the sheet might be one of those catchpennys which abounded at that epoch, stupid or spiteful. No, it was the list of his debts, accurate, and the note that their 200,000 francs had been paid by the Queen’s almoner on a certain date; also the statement that the court paid him six thousand francs per month. Lastly the account of his reception by the Queen.
What mysterious enemy pursued him, or rather pursued the monarchy like a hellhound?
This is what we shall learn, with many another secret which none but Cagliostro the superhuman might divine, in the sequel to this volume entitled “The Royal Lifeguard.”