"To-morrow will do," I replied, and we were still discussing the point when Armand and the Englishman suddenly made their appearance.
I need not describe their joyful surprise on perceiving Raoul, whom both believed to be dead. John Humphreys did not make a great display of his feelings—he rarely did—but Armand clapped Raoul on the shoulder and executed a lively dance.
"Where is Peleton?" I asked, when he had sobered down.
"In the Bastille by now, I expect. Condé is delighted; he will learn all about the plot within twenty-four hours. I never saw such a coward as Peleton!"
"The fellow isn't worth powder!" exclaimed Humphreys in disgust.
"Anyhow there is an end to De Retz's scheming," I remarked cheerfully, but Raoul shook his head.
"The Abbé can take care of himself," said he; "you will find that Peleton has no proof against him. It is your cousin who will suffer."
"I thought Henri was killed on the staircase'" cried Armand.
"No, he was wounded, but we managed to convey him along a secret passage, of which Pillot knew, into Martin's house. He is a bold rascal! I shall feel quite sorry if he falls into Condé's clutches. Did the prince question you, Armand?"
"No, he was too much occupied with Peleton, but he intends sending for Albert in a day or two. You will be wearing his livery soon, my friend!" said he, turning to me.