"In the first place," said Monsieur de Braguelonne, "you will take him, together with the most adroit pickpockets and burglars you can find in the prison, and send the whole lot of fine fellows to Blois, where they can have an opportunity to exhibit their tricks and cleverness for the king's entertainment during the fêtes which are being arranged for his Majesty."
"But, Monseigneur, suppose they retain the articles they have stolen in fun?"
"Then they shall be hung."
At this moment an usher entered and announced,—
"Monsieur le Inquisiteur de la Foi!"
Master Arpion did not need to be told to withdraw, He bowed respectfully and left the room.
The man who was ushered in was, in fact, a notable and formidable personage.
To his every-day titles of Doctor of the Sorbonne and Canon of Noyon, he added the extraordinary and high-sounding appellation of 'Grand Inquisitor of the Faith in France.' And in order that he might bear a name as sonorous as his title, he called himself Démocharès, although he was really plain Antoine de Mouchy. The people had christened his subordinates mouchards,—police spies.
"Good-evening, Monsieur le Lieutenant de Police," said the grand inquisitor.
"The same to you, Monsieur le Grand Inquisiteur," responded the lieutenant.