"Quite well," replied Maillotin du Bac, drawing his clear hawk's eyes together, with a shrewd glance upon the druggist's face; "quite well. What more?"
"Why this," answered the druggist: "I love not be in the power of any man. While Adolphus of Gueldres was in prison, and likely to remain there--while Thibalt of Neufchatel was living, and likely to live--the matter did not much signify; but now that Adolphus of Gueldres is free, and that Thibalt of Neufchatel is dying of the wounds he received at Nancy, it might be as well that those papers were in my own possession. Thus, then, it must be managed, Sir Prevot: you must find some excuse to take possession of his house with your men-at-arms the moment the breath is out of his body; and while you are sealing up the effects, I may be looking for the papers."
"But what, suppose I keep them in my possession for you?" demanded Maillotin du Bac, with one of his shrewd looks.
"Why, then," replied the druggist, calmly, "I cannot aid you in overthrowing Albert Maurice, and in obtaining possession of his person and his wealth."
"I understand," said the Prevot; "we are agreed. But what surety have I that you will do so when you have the papers?"
"This," answered Ganay, without any expression of indignation at a doubt of his honesty, which he felt to be perfectly natural, but, at the same time, approaching closer to the Prevot, and speaking in a low, but clear and emphatic tone--"this, that Albert Maurice--by what means I know not--has discovered my secret, and must die."
"Good! good!" replied the Prevot; "'tis better than a bond! We are agreed, we are agreed, mine excellent good friend. But, hark ye, Ganay, there is one bad stone in the arch. This Thibalt of Neufchatel, this good Count Thibalt, is marvellously better to-day. It would seem that the death of Imbercourt and Hugonet had done him good; for, about the time of the axe falling, he began to mend."
Ganay, as was his habit when he heard any unpalatable tidings, replied nought, but fixed his eyes upon the fire, and mused. "He is an old man," said the druggist, at length, speaking in a low and quiet voice--"he is an old man, this good Count Thibalt."
"Ay, doubtless is he," replied Maillotin du Bac, who was one of those people who take a keen delight in discovering difficulties and objections, solely for the sake of giving pain and disappointment to those whom they were likely to thwart; "but he is a hale old man, and may live these twenty years, if he get over this bout."
"He must have had enough of life," continued Ganay, in the same meditative tone. "It is time he were asleep. Adolphus of Gueldres has visited his sick couch more than once. It is time he were asleep."