“And how many were there of these linen-drapers?”

“Two, monseigneur.”

“And where did they live?”

“One Rue de Vaugirard, the other Rue de la Harpe.”

“Did you go into these houses with her?”

“Never, monseigneur; I waited at the door.”

“And what excuse did she make for thus going in alone?”

“She gave me none. She told me to wait, and I waited.”

“Should you know those doors again?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the numbers?”

“Yes.”

“What are they?”

“No. 25 in the Rue de Vaugirard; 75 in the Rue de la Harpe.”

“Very well,” said the cardinal.

At these words he took up a silver bell and rang it. The officer entered.

“Go,” said he in a subdued voice, “and find Rochefort. Tell him to come to me immediately, if he has returned.”

“The Count is here,” said the officer, “and wishes to speak instantly with your Eminence.”

“Let him come in, then—let him come in, then!” said the cardinal eagerly.

The officer rushed out of the apartment with that alacrity which all the cardinal’s servants displayed in obeying him.

“To your Eminence!” murmured Bonacieux, rolling his eyes round in astonishment.

Five seconds had not elapsed after the disappearance of the officer when the door opened and a new personage entered.

“It is he!” cried Bonacieux.

“He! What he?” asked the cardinal.

“The man who took away my wife!”

The cardinal rang a second time. The officer reappeared.

“Place this man in the care of his two guards, and let him wait till I send for him.”

The officer took Bonacieux by the arm, and led him into the antechamber, where he found his two guards.