"I have quick legs. I put them to use and made a short cut on the run across St. Patern to arrive before my three men at the arcade of St. Nicholas. The place was dark as an oven. I listened, but heard nothing. I know the place. Groping about I found a niche where one time stood the statue of the saint. I vanished in the cavity, and awaited at all hazards. I was well repaid. About fifteen minutes later steps were heard under the vault and I recognized the voice of the man of the furred cap whispering: 'Haloa ... haloa! John Four-Sous', and presently a voice answered: 'He has not yet arrived ... the devil take the loafer!' 'No time is lost,' answered a third voice, 'he only needs three hours to reach here from Charenton on horseback; he will not fail.'"
"The situation is grave," said Jocelyn. "It is at Charenton that the Regent has his headquarters. There must be some treasonable plot on foot."
"Exactly. So you can imagine how I congratulated myself on my discovery. Evidently there was a plot hatching with the court party. John Four-Sous finally arrived by the other side of the entrance of the arcade and the man of the furred cap asked him: 'Are you ready to leave?' 'Yes, my horse stands saddled in the stable of the inn of The Three Monkeys.' 'Very well; here is the letter,' came from the man of the furred cap, 'Make haste to arrive at the royal encampment; deliver the letter to the seneschal of Poitou; he will understand.' 'But will they allow me to leave the city?' asked the messenger. 'Fear not,' he is answered, 'the gate of St. Antoine is this evening guarded by men of our side; Master Maillart is to be there himself; you shall give for pass-word "Montjoie, the King and Duke"; that will let you through. To horse, now, to horse!' After that the man of the furred cap and his two companions walked off by one entrance and John Four-Sous by the other. I left the niche where I had taken St. Nicholas' place, and followed the messenger of whom I got a clear view when the light of the moon fell upon him outside the vault. The scamp was tall, sinewy and well armed. I made up my mind to seize the letter that he carried. How to do it? I was still revolving the matter when I saw him enter the tavern of The Three Monkeys. I imagined he was going for his horse in the stable. Not at all! John Four-Sous, being a man of foresight, called for supper before starting on his journey, and through the open door I saw him comfortably anchored at a table. Bacchus willed it that I had often emptied more than one tankard at the tavern of The Three Monkeys without smashing them after drinking. I knew the inn-keeper, a worthy fellow belonging to Marcel's party. I immediately dropped a few lines to the divine Alison whom Dame Venus ... attached to her chariot...."
"We know all about that ... come to the point."
"Uncertain of what success I might meet, I wished at least to forewarn Master Marcel, and that so soon as possible, that something was hatching against him. The inn-keeper undertook to forward my note to Alison's inn, and presently.... Blessed be the goddess Fortuna, whom do I see enter but my chum Nicholas the Thin-skinned, in the company of the Scotch students, with whom I had once fistically discussed the merits of the rhetoric of Fichetus. They came to drink some spiced wine. With the corner of my eyes I was taking in John Four-Sous devouring his ample supper. My plan was formed. I communicated it to my friends and the inn-keeper, confiding to them the suspicions that I entertained, and which the incident of the arcade of St. Nicholas confirmed. Nothing simpler than my project: Pick up a quarrel with John Four-Sous, fall upon him, take possession of the letter, and lock up the scamp in the cellar of The Three Monkeys so as to keep him from giving the alarm to Maillart's party. So said, so done.... I approached John Four-Sous' table and started quarrelling with him. He gave me an insolent answer. I jumped at his throat and Nicholas the Thin-skinned rummaged through the fellow's pockets, and seized the letter, and—"
The student's account was interrupted by Marcel, who after a long and thorough reflection, rose from his seat, and stepping towards Jocelyn said:
"I spoke to you of my quandary; this letter would have put an end to it had not my resolution been previously taken. Do you know who wrote this letter?"
"No, Master Marcel; who is its author? A friend or an enemy?"
"My oldest friend," answered the provost with deep concern and disgust, "John Maillart! This letter proves that for some time, and despite his affectation of devotion for the popular cause and his violent language against the court, Maillart was secretly negotiating with the royalist party whose chiefs in Paris are the Sire of Charny and the knight James of Pontoise, for the nobility, with Maillart and the old councilmen Pastorel and John Alphonse for the bourgeoisie. These are our worst enemies."
"Master Marcel," asked Jocelyn, "will not you and the governors take rigorous measures against these traitors?"