known, proposed also some theories. Of these, one that the
benevolent was a disguised lady, who contrived in this way to give the
rein at once to gallantry and charity, pleased him most; while I
favoured that which had first occurred to me on the night of our sally,
and held the unknown to be a clever rascal, who, to serve his ends,
political or criminal, was corrupting the commonalty, and drawing
people into his power.

Things remained in this state some weeks, and, growing no wiser, I was
beginning to think less of the affair--which, of itself, and apart from
a whimsical interest which the King took in it, was unimportant--when
one day, stopping in the Quartier du Marais to view the works at the
new Place Royale, I saw the boy. He was in charge of a decent-looking
servant, whose hand he was holding, and the two were gazing at a horse
that, alarmed by the heaps of stone and mortar, was rearing and trying
to unseat its rider. The child did not see me, and I bade Maignan
follow him home, and learn where he lived and who he was.

In an hour my equerry returned with the information I desired. The
child was the only son of Fauchet, one of the Receivers-General of the
Revenue; a man who kept great state in the largest of the old-fashioned
houses in the Rue de Bethisy, where he, had lately entertained the
King. I could not imagine anyone less likely to be concerned in
treasonable practices; and, certain that I had made no mistake in the
boy, I was driven for a while to believe that some servant had,
perverted the child to this use. Presently, however, second thoughts,
and the position of the father, taken, perhaps, with suspicions that I
had for a long time entertained of Fauchet--in common with most of his
kind--suggested an explanation, hitherto unconsidered. It was not an
explanation very probable at first sight, nor one that would have
commended itself to those who divide all men by hard and fast rules and
assort them like sheep. But I had seen too much of the world to fall
into this mistake, and it satisfied me. I began by weighing it
carefully; I procured evidence, I had Fauchet watched; and, at length,
one evening in August, I went to the Louvre.

The King was dicing with Fernandez, the Portuguese banker; but I
ventured to interrupt the game and draw him aside. He might not have
taken this well, but that my first word caught his attention.

"Sire," I said, "the shutter is open."

He understood in a moment.