At midnight the full moon, silver-gilt, touched the house-fronts of the Street of the Hanged Man. They lit the figure and slouched hat of Jude, who, carrying a package, slunk up to the door of the Gougeon shop and was admitted. The Big Bench were in session. The light of the tallow-dip seemed to concentrate itself on the wicked smile of the Admiral as he watched Jude opening the packages.
"Do you know who sent this, gentlemen?" the spy cried, enjoying the importance of being the bearer of some surprise.
"We are not gentlemen, and we do not know," retorted Hache.
"It was a high personage, rowers—no less a personage than a prince—a royal prince."
"What have we to do with princes?"
"With the Duke of Orleans, much; rival to the throne, he is the friend of the people."
"Ah, yes, the friend of the people, and he wants us for something. That is a good contract," the Admiral interrupted. "Whose windpipe does he want to cut, and what does he promise to pay for it?"
"Nothing so risky; only some shouting, and as for the pay, here, Admiral, is the nose of the dog," and he handed him a full bag of coin.
The Admiral tore it open, and exhibited the metal to his greedy-eyed subordinates. Hache grabbed at a couple of the coins, and joyfully flipped them up to the ceiling.
"Now what does our friend the Duke of Orleans want? Our friend the Duke of Orleans, gentlemen," the Admiral added, smiling ironically.