"As thoroughly as if Monseigneur had given me the ten thousand crowns."
"Well, then, where is Diane?"
"In the hands of Lord Wentworth at Calais," replied Arnauld, trying to grasp the document from the hand of the constable, who still held on to it.
"One moment," said he; "and Vicomte d'Exmès?"
"At Calais, in the hands of Lord Wentworth."
"Then he and Diane see each other?"
"No, Monseigneur; he lives at the house of an armorer, one Pierre Peuquoy, while she is an inmate of the governor's house. Vicomte d'Exmès has no more idea than you, I am willing to swear, that she is so near him."
"I must hasten to the Louvre," said the constable, relaxing his hold on the paper.
"And I to Artigues," cried Arnauld, in triumph. "Good luck, Monseigneur! Try not to be a constable who is laughed at again."
"Good luck, blackguard! and try not to be hung for good."