ise before Robespierre.

"I shall want agents," he said, "or shall we say spies? and, of course,
money."

"You shall have both. We keep a very efficient secret service in
England and they do a great deal of good over there. There is much
dissatisfaction in their Midland counties--you remember the Birmingham
riots? They were chiefly the work of our own spies. Then you know
Candeille, the actress? She had found her way among some of those
circles in London who have what they call liberal tendencies. I believe
they are called Whigs. Funny name, isn't it? It means perruque, I think.
Candeille has given charity performances in aid of our Paris poor,
in one or two of these Whig clubs, and incidentally she has been very
useful to us."

"A woman is always useful in such cases. I shall seek out the Citizeness
Candeille."

"And if she renders you useful assistance, I think I can offer her
what should prove a tempting prize. Women are so vain!" he added,
contemplating with rapt attention the enamel-like polish on his
finger-nails. "There is a vacancy in the Maison Moliere. Or--what might
prove more attractive still--in connection with the proposed National
fete, and the new religion for the people, we have not yet chosen
a Goddess of Reason. That should appeal to any feminine mind. The
impersonation of a goddess, with processions, pageants, and the rest...
Great importance and prominence given to one personality.... What
say you, Citizen? If you really have need of a woman for the furtherance
of your plans, you have that at your disposal which may enhance her
zeal."

"I thank you, Citizen," rejoined Chauvelin calmly. "I always entertained
a hope that some day the Revolutionary Government would call again on
my services. I admit that I failed last year. The Englishman is
resourceful. He has wits and he is very rich. He would not have
succeeded, I think, but for his money--and corruption and bribery are
rife in Paris and on our coasts. He slipped through my fingers at the
very moment when I thought that I held him most securely. I do admit all
that, but I am prepared to redeem my failure of last year, and... there
is nothing more to discuss.--I am ready to start."

He looked round for his cloak and hat, and quietly readjusted the set
of his neck-tie. But Robespierre detained him a while longer: that
born mountebank, born torturer of the souls of men, had not gloated
sufficiently yet on the agony of mind of this fellow-man.