“Hardly; I fear I am stupid.”
“You do not see? Ah, my dear d'Haricot, eloquence is your gift, contrivance mine. I have not invented a flying-machine, a submarine vessel, and a dynamite gun for nothing. These men enter this van; the door is closed upon them; it is driven to the station, put on board my special train, and taken to the coast. They then emerge; I address them in such terms as will make it impossible for them to withdraw, even if they wish—and they are to be desperate, picked men; we arm them, and then to France! On the coast of Normandy we will be met by five regiments of foot, two of cavalry, and six batteries of artillery which I am assured will declare for the King. Paris is ripe for a revolution. Vive le Roi! Why are you silent? Is it not well thought of, my friend?”
“It is indeed ingenious,” I replied. “But the carrying of it out I foresee may not be so easy.”
“Nothing can fail. My confidence is implicit. Was I ever deceived?”
I might with truth have retorted “always,” but I saw that I should only enrage him.
I shrugged my shoulders and asked:
“You superintend the affair?”
“In the house. Hankey makes the arrangements at the station. Much is to be done. One man to one task.”
“And I? What do I do?”
“You bring your friends to the station. At eleven precisely the train starts. Do not be late.”