Rohan gave the required promise, but, not conceiving that the Bohmers were included in it, he showed them the note and the Queen's signature when they came to wait upon him with the necklace on the morrow.
In the dusk of evening a closed carriage drew up at the door of Madame de la Motte Valois's lodging on the Place Dauphine at Versailles. Rohan alighted, and went upstairs with a casket under his arm.
Madame awaited him in a white-panelled, indifferently lighted room, to which there was an alcove with glass doors.
“You have brought the necklace?”
“It is here,” he replied, tapping the box with his gloved hand.
“Her Majesty is expecting it to-night. Her messenger should arrive at any moment. She will be pleased with Your Eminence.”
“That is all that I can desire,” he answered gravely; and sat down in answer to her invitation, the precious casket on his knees.
Waiting thus, they talked desultorily for some moments. At last came steps upon the stairs.
“Quick! The alcove!” she exclaimed. “You must not be seen by Her Majesty's messenger.”
Rohan, with ready understanding, a miracle of discretion, effaced himself into the alcove, through the glass doors of which he could see what passed.