A moment or two later Laurent returned closely followed by Leroux. Fernande instinctively turned to look at the man whom she had last seen in the factory, covered with grime and smoke and sweat, threatening by foul words and furtive gestures the master who had controlled and punished him.

Of a truth, she scarcely recognized him. Paul Leroux, actuated both by greed and by the desire to free himself from present constituted authority, had played his part over well. From the surly, ill-conditioned jail-bird of twelve months ago, he had succeeded in eliminating every unpleasant aspect, save that of the eyes, which had remained shifty and glowering as before. But he wore the cloth coat and corduroy breeches of a well-to-do artisan now; his hair was combed and oiled and held back in the nape of the neck with a tidy piece of ribbon. He wore neckcloth, stockings and shoes with buckles. His hands were almost clean.

De Puisaye and the others surveyed this new recruit to the Royalist cause with genuine satisfaction. Except for that shifty look in the eyes, which perhaps these men, unaccustomed to psychological analysis, failed to note, Paul Leroux looked a well-conditioned, reliable, well-fashioned tool, ready for any guiding hand.

"Well now, Leroux," began Joseph de Puisaye, with a sort of condescending gruffness which he thought suitable for the occasion, "Madame la Marquise de Mortain has been telling me that you have resolved to become once more a loyal and independent subject of His Majesty King Louis the Eighteenth by the grace of God, and that you are ready to throw off your allegiance to the adventurer who has dared to set himself upon the throne of France. That is so—is it not?"

"If by all that talk," retorted the man surlily, "you mean that I and my mates are heartily sick of de Maurel and of the tyranny of his minions, and that we don't mind throwing in our lot with you for a consideration ... then you are right. I am your man."

De Puisaye threw his head back and laughed, and even solemn Prigent could not suppress a smile.

"Well said, my good Leroux," riposted de Puisaye unconcernedly. "You put things bluntly, but that certainly is the proposition. Let me put it quite as bluntly to you. We have eight hundred men between this and Avranches, ready to march on La Frontenay on a given night. We want to obtain possession of the factories, the foundries and the armament works. Can you help us to them?"

"I can and I will," replied the man gruffly, "if you'll give me ten thousand francs for my pains, and a hundred francs apiece for my mates."

"We have already agreed to that," rejoined de Puisaye, "and I pledge you my word of honour that you shall have the money on the day when I myself walk into the foundries of La Frontenay as their master. Now how do you propose to do what we want?"

For one instant Leroux' shifty eyes had flared up beneath their flaccid lids, as the Comte Joseph de Puisaye pledged himself to pay that ten thousand francs for which Leroux would readily have sold his soul to the devil.

"Will you explain to these seigneurs, Leroux," commanded M. de Courson, "the plan which we have agreed on? They would prefer to hear it from your own lips, so that we can all be assured that you thoroughly understand all that you will have to do."

"Am I not to sit down?" queried Leroux roughly.

The gentlemen looked at one another in some consternation. Here was a problem which, simple as it seemed, nevertheless embodied a good many of the puzzles which would inevitably confront the old rÉgime when it did succeed in re-establishing itself above the ruins and the ashes of Equality and of Fraternity. For a man in Leroux' position to dare think of sitting down in the presence of his seigneurs was, indeed, an unheard-of possibility in the days before the proletariat had ventured to assert its rights to live like human beings rather than like beasts of burden. Now, of course, things were very different; the theory of social levelling—which had found expression in the title of "citizen" applied equally to the whilom aristocrat and to the vagrant in the street—made even de Puisaye marvel if he dared impose upon a man like Leroux those conventions which in the past would have been as natural to him as the indrawing and exhaling of his breath, but which now might arouse his resentment and turn him, headstrong and wrathful, against the project wherein his co-operation was of such vital importance.

Compromise that did not grate upon the susceptibilities on either side was obviously the only wise course to adopt under the circumstances, and de Puisaye, keeping an air of haughty condescension that satisfied himself, said in a pleasant tone intended to conciliate Leroux: "If the ladies have no objection, my man, you certainly may sit."

Madame la Marquise nodded approval, and Leroux, muttering something which fortunately remained inaudible, sat down.

II

"Well, now," resumed de Puisaye after a while, "will you tell these ladies and gentlemen here as clearly as you can what plan you can adopt in order to deliver the Maurel factories into our hands? Then we shall be able to see how best we can co-operate with you in the matter."

"I can manage things all right for you," said Leroux roughly. "I am chief overseer of the powder factory now—what?—so I have my quarters inside the precincts. I live in the Lodge—you know it—it stands in the centre of the group of work-sheds over against the powder magazine. What I can do is this: I can keep half a hundred of my mates—those that I know I can rely on—to work overtime one evening. They can easily slacken work during the day, and I should then have the right to keep them back for two or three hours in the sheds."

"They will form the main garrison inside the precincts," explained M. de Courson. "On their quick and efficient work will depend our success."

"Yes, I quite understand that," assented de Puisaye. "Now, how is that garrison going to work for us? I presume that there are night-watchmen about in the various sheds and throughout the works."

"There are," replied Leroux briefly, "two in every shed, and Mathurin, the chief overseer of the foundries, sleeps in one of the main buildings, too. At night—if it is necessary—the alarm is given by ringing the bell in one of the clock towers. There are two of these towers in the precincts of the works, one in the main building of the foundries, the other above the Lodge in the powder factory, where I sleep."

"Therefore," commented Prigent dryly, "the first thing that you and your garrison will have to do, my man, will be to hold the two clock towers, and then to surprise and overpower the various night-watchmen as simultaneously as possible ... as silently as may be."

"Exactly," rejoined Leroux curtly.

"Well," added de Puisaye eagerly, "having disposed of the night-watchmen, what would you do next?"

"Some of us will stay behind on guard in the different sheds, and a score or so will march on the compound, where the rest of our mates are penned up as if they were savage beasts that must be kept in cages."

"Aha! That means another hundred and fifty of you?"

"Yes, another hundred and fifty. There are sentries at the gates of the compound, but we can easily overpower those. The watch will not be quite so strict now that the General has come home."

"Ah!" ejaculated de Puisaye, "matters slacken up at the works when the master is home—what?"

"Not exactly," replied Leroux. "But those military overseers have been absolute brutes. Things cannot be quite so bad now they have gone."

"M. de Maurel is more easy-going, or more indifferent—which?"

Leroux shrugged his shoulders, then said gruffly:

"The General has altered a good deal since he has been away."

"At any rate," here interposed Madame la Marquise impatiently, "Laurent and I can vouch for the fact that the watch round the compounds is not over strict just now. We went past there last night. There were only a couple of sentries at the gates."

"Even so you will have to be careful, my good Leroux," added M. de Courson, "so as not to raise the alarm."

"No, we won't do that," rejoined Leroux. "We can deal with the sentry easily enough."

"And do you think that a couple of hundred men can march from the compound back to the works without being seen or heard."

"Oh, yes! if they are determined not to make a noise. It is not far to the factories. Less than a kilomÈtre. The roads are soft under foot. We'll be careful not to be seen or heard, you may be sure of that."

"And once you are all back at the works?" queried M. d'AchÉ.

"We'll just wait there, ready to let you in when you come," replied the man simply.

"What about arms?"

"There are thousands in the stores and in the cellars below the buildings! Enough to equip an army!"

"Splendid! splendid!" exclaimed de Puisaye with enthusiasm. "This man is a jewel! what say you, gentlemen?—and well deserves the money which I have pledged mine honour to place into his hands. Ten thousand francs for the brain that devised the scheme, a hundred francs apiece for those who carry it through. That's it, is it not, my brave Leroux?"

"Yes, that's it," replied the ex-convict with a leer.

"Very well," concluded de Puisaye, "then we'll call that settled. All that we need do now is to decide on the night when we do our coup."

"The sooner the better," said Leroux; "it is dangerous to leave a thing like that hanging about. It may be blown upon at any time. I have had to warn some of my mates that there was something in the wind. Any one of them may be a blackleg, for aught I know."

"The man is right," said M. de Courson decisively; "delays are always dangerous. Moreover, there is no cause for procrastination. The next four-and-twenty hours ought to see us fully prepared."

"I shall have just to think things over," interposed de Puisaye who, throughout his adventurous career, never failed for want of caution, but rather from too much indecision. "In a couple of days I could name the day—or rather the night—when I shall be quite ready—but not before."

"Surely, my dear M. de Puisaye ..." hazarded Madame la Marquise.

"Madame, I entreat you," he rejoined, "to trust to me in this. I have to make my dispositions as carefully as may be. May I suggest that we dismiss this man for the moment, with orders to report here for duty the day after to-morrow?"

"I don't see why we should wait all that time," muttered Leroux.

"There are many things, no doubt, my man," said M. de Courson haughtily, "many things in the councils of your betters that escape your comprehension. As far as arguing goes, we none of us think of quarrelling with the decisions of our chief. We all work for the same cause, and you must learn obedience, the same as we have done, or," he added significantly, "you will have to forfeit the ten thousand francs and your own liberty, which are to be your reward if you serve us as we desire. Now is that clearly understood?"

"But what do you want me to do, enfin?" growled Leroux, on whom the magic mention of money at once acted as a sedative to his surly temper.

"We want you to go on quietly," said M. de Courson, "just as you have done hitherto—trying to win M. de Maurel's confidence just as you succeeded in winning that of the military overseers. It is only a matter of a couple of days at most. Do not let more of your mates into the secret for the present, above all, remember to report for duty here the day after to-morrow at three o'clock in the afternoon. Now you can go."

Leroux would have liked to stay and argue for a while longer. Though he had fully made up his mind to do exactly as he was told, both for the sake of the reward and for the sake of getting even with life, as he would put it, by striking a big blow at constituted authority, he was far too conscious of his own importance, far too puffed up with pride, to take such peremptory orders without a protest. But neither de Puisaye nor any of the others were in a mood to waste time by useless arguings.

While Leroux was busy drawing upon his stock of impudence with a view to letting these "aristos" know that he had them in his power, and would stand no domineering ways from them, they had already coolly turned their backs on him and were deep in whispered consultation together. This haughty ignoring of his personality had the effect of damping the ex-convict's arrogance. He rose and gazed somewhat sheepishly on the array of backs turned so resolutely upon him. He twiddled his hat between his fingers, fidgeted first on one leg, then on the other. At last he was driven to acquiescence and said roughly:

"I'll be here at three o'clock the day after to-morrow. And if you are wise, all of you," he added significantly, "you'll arrange for matters to come to a head that same night or there'll be trouble. Foi de Paul Leroux!"

Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

But just as he was about to bang the door behind him, he happened to turn back again, and he encountered Mademoiselle de Courson's blue eyes fixed upon him with such an expression of loathing, that much against his will, and quite understandably, a hot flush of anger—or was it of shame?—rose right up to his forehead and to the roots of his hair.