“Tell me how it is organized,—how it proceeds,” I answered.
“It was the Comte d’Argenson who brought it to its present state of perfection,” began Hérault. “He was, as you perhaps know, my predecessor, and held the position for nineteen years. It was for Louis the Great that the thorough organization of the secret department was undertaken. He had, as you have doubtless heard, a great liking for scandal, and for many years the chief duty of the department was to discover intrigues and liaisons. He devoted an hour every morning to listening to the report of the police department, and nothing pleased him so greatly as the details of some love-affair. These, it need hardly be said, he would repeat later in the day to his court, to the great confusion of the parties concerned. Under d’Argenson the secret agents were trained to a remarkable degree of perfection, and I found my work ready for my hand when I entered the office.”
“You have, then, a great number of agents?” I asked.
“They are everywhere, monsieur,” answered Hérault, with a smile. “They constitute the eye which sees everything and the ear which hears everything happening in Paris. You will say, no doubt, that intrigues are not always exposed, that crimes are not always punished. Believe me, monsieur, it is not because they are not known. Reasons of state sometimes step in to protect the guilty ones; at other times the regent prefers to wait, playing with them as a cat plays with a mouse, only in the end to crush them more completely.”
I glanced at Hérault to discover what meaning might lie hidden behind these words, but his face told me nothing. He turned the conversation upon indifferent topics, indicating that he had said all he cared to say about the police department, and a few moments later he arose to go.
“The time of your release is drawing near, monsieur,” he said. “A little patience, and when the morning comes you will be free again. Is there anything you wish?”
“May I have a pack of cards and a piece of chalk?” I asked. “There is no objection, I suppose, to M. Bernin here playing with me?”
“None whatever,” answered Hérault. “The cards shall be sent you, monsieur,” and he was gone.
The cards soon came, and the afternoon passed quickly. Bernin was very fond of play and, as I permitted him to win the few pistoles I possessed, he arose from the table in great good humor. Supper came with the candles. Bernin joined me, at my invitation, no longer making a pretence of holding back, and his five companions each received another glass of wine.
“You desire your revenge, doubtless, monsieur,” said Bernin, as we finished, and I saw that he was trembling with eagerness to resume the cards.