“How could I make my mistress do anything, my lord?” inquired Nicole.
“It is the fashion to have an evening’s drink—orangeade or licorice water—— ”
“My young lady has a glass of water by her bedside, sometimes with a lump of sugar in it, or perfumed with orangewater, if her nerves are out of order.”
“Wonderful, just like me,” said Richelieu, taking out a handful of Exchequer notes. “If you were to put a couple of drops from my own bottle which I hand you, the young lady would sleep all the night.”
“Good: and I will lock her in so that nobody can disturb her till the morning.”
“No,” said Richelieu, quickly. “That is just what you must not do. Leave the door ajar.”
He understood that the girl saw all the plot.
“Money for the flight—the phial for the sleep—but they lock the gates and I have no key.”
“But I am a First Gentleman in Attendance on the King and have my master-key.”
“How timely all falls in,” said Nicole; “it seems a whole calendar of miracles. Adieu, my lord.”