“Every word, Madame,” replied the priest.
“And you have actually secured the whole of it?”
“Except the jewels—and unless I am prevented from going on to-morrow.”
“Why should you be?”
“One never knows,” said he, and finished his coffee with appreciation. “And now,” he added briskly, “about to-morrow morning?”
“You will really do it for me? God reward you, Father!”
“I will come at half-past four to-morrow to your entrance here. I suppose there is a private door to the chapel from the château? You will have everything ready? Perhaps you have made ready for Mass before?”
“Yes, I have,” said the Duchesse.
“Then that is settled,” observed M. Chassin, brushing the crumbs off his person. “The sentry is used by now to my industrious early entrances, and there is no one about to ask why, having entered, I am not to be seen working. Nor will anybody, I presume, ring your bell at that early hour. I see no extra hazard at all; and most of my treasure trove is already in Paris, in good hands.”
At the door he stopped. “There is only one thing more. For whose soul do you wish this Mass said, Madame Vidal?”