Sartines was a man of fifty, in a dressing gown, and enormous wig, limp with curling and powder; he sat before a desk with looking-glass panels enabling him to see any one coming into the study without having to turn and study their faces before arranging his own.
The lower part of the desk formed a secretary where were kept in drawers his papers and those in cipher which could not be read even after his death, unless in some still more secret drawer were found the key to the cipher. This piece of mechanism was built expressly for the Regent Duke of Orleans to keep his poisons in, and it came to Sartines from his Prime Minister Cardinal Dubois per the late Chief of Police. Rumor had it that it contained the famous contract called the “Compact of Famine,” the statutes of the Great Grain Ring among the directors of which figured Louis XV.
So the Police Chief saw in this mirror the pale and serious face of Lorenza as she advanced with the casket under her arm.
“Who are you—what do you want?” he challenged without looking round.
“Am I in the presence of Lord Sartines, Head of the Police?”
“Yes,” he curtly answered.
“What proof have I of that?” she asked.
This made him turn round.
“Will it be good proof if I send you to prison?”
She did not reply but looked round for the seat which she expected to be offered her by right, as to any lady of her country. He was vanquished by that single look for Count Alby de Sartines was a well-bred gentleman.