you allow me to interrogate him myself?" inquired Aramis.

"Do so," said Fouquet.

Aramis was about to say something to the lackey, when he paused.

"No," he said; "he would see that we attach too much importance to his
answer, question him yourself; I will pretend to write." Aramis
accordingly placed himself at a table, his back turned toward the old
attendant, whose every gesture and look he watched in a looking-glass
opposite to him.

"Come here, Toby," said Fouquet to the valet, who approached with a
tolerably firm step. "How did you execute my commission?" inquired
Fouquet.

"In the usual way, monseigneur," replied the man.

"But how, tell me?"

"I succeeded in penetrating as far as Mademoiselle de la Valliere's
apartment; but she was at mass, and so I placed the note on her
toilet-table. Is not that what you told me to do?"

"Precisely; and is that all?"

"Absolutely all, monseigneur."

"No one was there?"

"No one."

"Did you conceal yourself as I told you?"

"Yes."

"And she returned?"

"Ten minutes afterward."

"And no one could have taken the letter?"

"No one; for no one entered the room."

"From the outside, but from the interior?"

"From the place where I was secreted I could see to the very end of the
room."

"Now, listen to me," said Fouquet, looking fixedly at the lackey; "if
this letter did not reach its proper destination, confess it; for, if a
mistake has been made, your head shall be the forfeit."

Toby started, but immediately recovered himself. "Monseigneur," he said,
"I placed the letter on the very place I told you; and I ask only half
an hour to prove to you that the letter is in Mademoiselle de la
Valliere's hands, or to bring you back the letter itself."

Aramis looked at the valet scrutinizingly. Fouquet was ready in placing
confidence in people, and for twenty years this man had served him
faithfully. "Go," he said; "but bring me the proof you speak of." The
lackey quitted the room.

"Well, what do you think of it?" inquired Fouquet of Aramis.

"I think that you must, by some means or another, assure yourself of the
truth, either that the letter has or has not reached La Valliere; that,
in the first case, La Valliere must return it to you, or satisfy you by
burning it in your presence; that, in the second, you must have the
letter back again, even were it to cost you a million. Come, is not that
your opinion?"

"Yes; but still, my dear bishop, I believe you