nd wait for further tidings, and, after bringing this message, he went to
Paris to Fouche, the minister of police, to deliver the letter and inquiry
of the conspirators."

"And he has not yet returned," said Mariage, sighing. "Some misfortune has
befallen him; the emperor's spies have doubtless tracked him, and he has
atoned for his reckless enterprise with his life."

"No, Kraus is too clever and too bold to let himself be discovered by
Napoleon's spies," said the baron with a subtle smile, "and, since Monsieur
Bonaparte must fare like the worthy citizens of Nuremberg who hang no one
until they have caught him, Commissioner Kraus has not been compelled to
atone for his bold enterprise with his life, but has returned successful
and unharmed."

"What? He has returned?"

"Four days ago."

"Four days ago, and I, we all, know nothing of it?"

"Yes, I knew it. Surely you are aware that Fouche was not to direct his
reply directly to any one of you, to a subject of the emperor, in order, in
case of discovery, to compromise no one. So Fouche addressed his reply to
me; for if the letter had actually been opened, it could have done Baron
von Moudenfels no harm, since fortunately I am not one of the emperor's
subjects, and what he could punish in you as high-treason, he must
recognize in us Germans as patriotism."

"But the letter, Fouche's answer!" said Mariage impatiently. "Pray do not
keep me on the rack any longer. What does Fouche write?"

"Why, his letter is tolerably laconic, and one must understand how to read
between the lines to interpret the meaning correctly. Here it is. You see
that it is directed to me--Baron von Moudenfels--and contains nothing but
the following words: 'Why ask me anything, when you ought already to have
accomplished everything yourselves? Put him in a sack, drown him in the
Danube--then all will be easily arranged everywhere.'"[C]

"For heaven's sake," cried the colonel, pale and horror-stricken, "what
does Fouche mean? Of whom is he speaking?"

"Why, of whom except Bonaparte, or, as he likes to call himself, the
Emperor Napoleon!" said the baron coolly. "And you will admit that Fouche
is right. If, at Ebersdorf, the sleeping Bonaparte had been thrust into a
sack and flung into the Danube, the whole affair would have been ended in
the most successful and shortest way, instead of our now being obliged to
rack our brains and plunge into dangers of every kind to attain the same
goal which w