"It does indeed, Vipont," replied the taller and older man; "only the importance of our errand would have made me stir forth to-night. Half past ten, as I live," looking at his watch. "Come, let us be moving; see, someone is approaching the Palace gate."
A lantern flickered at the moment in the court-yard of the Palace, its light gradually growing brighter.
"The Officer of the Guard, most likely, going his rounds," remarked Vipont, following his companion, who, without heeding the remark, was already splashing across the space that intervened between them and the light.
Just when they arrived at the Palace gate, the officer reached the street.
Then one of the sentries at the gate pushed the new-comers aside, saying, the while he presented his bayonet at their chests, "Pass on, good folk, you cannot enter here. Pass on, whoever you may be."
Seeing that they paid no heed to his injunction, the man was about to enforce it, when the officer came up and asked their business.
"To see Mons. Barras, the President of the Directory," was the reply.
The officer, a tall, good-looking young man with coal-black hair and eyes, laughed somewhat contemptuously. "It is impossible," he said. "You cannot be admitted at this hour. Come to the Levee to-morrow."
The tall man, who appeared to be the leader, Vipont not yet having uttered a word, spoke again, and his voice was loud and masterful. "I enter where I please, Sir. If you were not a stranger in Paris, you would know that I am the Minister of Police."
At this announcement, the young man fell back a step; for, in those days, to offend the Minister of Police was a dangerous proceeding, he being, next to the chief of the State, the most powerful personage.