“But, Merton, how can we get into the house, even if we enter the garden unseen?”
“Oh, I forgot to say that she has said she would contrive to tell her nurse to leave the conservatory unlocked, and also the door between it and the house. I told you she has been there twice. On each occasion she was watched, but was allowed to enter and pick flowers. She feels sure of being able to warn the nurse. We must give her a day. But why do they not arrest her? That would have been my first move.”
I replied: “Her late husband’s people are Bonapartists and very influential. It would have to be explained, and the situation is an awkward one. The mere destruction of the papers is not what they most desire; neither do they want the loss known, and very likely they desire to conceal it as long as possible from the Emperor. I have been unable to think of any plan. Has the night left you any wiser?”
“I? Yes, indeed. I have a plan—a good one and simple. When I was a boy and coveted apples, one fellow got over the fence and attracted the attention of the farmer, while the other secured apples in a far corner of the orchard. Don’t you see?”
“No, I do not.”
“Well, it is simple. Just see how easy it is. We attract the attention of the guards, and then one of us goes into the house.”
“But,” said I, “if he meets there a resolute guard.”
“And if,” said Merton, “the guard is met by a more resolute man, let us say, with a revolver.”
“Merton, it is a thing to be done without violence.”
“Or not at all?” queried Merton, with what I may call an examining glance.