“Read it.”
“Yes—yes!”
“And found that it was a—what shall I say?—a revelation of how Choiseul had plotted against the Dubarry and a libel on his Majesty. It was written in a moment of anger, it was one of the false steps men make who have not control of their temper. With this letter in your hand you are safe from Choiseul. He, of course, knows that the thing was taken from the saddle-bag of the horse, but I doubt if he suspects you as having taken it, simply because in the ordinary course you would have used it against him before this.”
“How did you get this letter?”
“The girl gave it to my agent, Lavenne, making him promise that it was to be used only for your protection. Now we have some honour amongst us at the Hôtel de Sartines, otherwise this—um—treasonable document would have been laid by this before his Majesty for the good of the State. Lavenne, to-night, knowing that you would be here, gave it to me to give to you.”
“Let me have it.”
“Come into this corridor, then.”
Sartines led the way between two curtains into a corridor giving entrance to the salon where to-night refreshments were being served.
He handed the letter to Rochefort, who hastily put it in his pocket.
“Thanks,” said Rochefort. “This will make the matter easier for me. Or at least it will serve as an introduction to our business. And now, like a good fellow, obtain for me my interview with Choiseul.”