“Ah,” said Lavenne. “One can fancy M. de Rochefort imagining himself neglected and getting restive, but I cannot imagine where he could have got the means of escape.”
“Nor can anyone else,” replied de Sartines.
He looked up. The usher had knocked at the door and was entering the room, a letter in his hand.
“Who brought it?” asked Sartines, taking the letter.
“I don’t know, monsieur, a man left it and went away saying that there was no answer.”
He withdrew and the Minister opened the letter.
He cast his eyes over the contents and then handed it to Lavenne.
“Dear Sartines,” ran this short and explicit communication, “I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you to-night at the Duc de Choiseul’s reception. I have left Vincennes, it was too dull. Meanwhile, do not be troubled in the least. I hope to make everything right with Choiseul.
“Yours,
“De Rochefort.”
“Well, monsieur,” said Lavenne, returning the letter, which he had read with astonishment, but without the slightest alteration of expression, “we have now, at least, a clue to M. de Rochefort’s plans.”