“What other?” Tignonville cried.

“A minister,” Tavannes answered, smiling.  “A minister.  There are not many left in Paris—­of your faith.  But you met one this morning, I know.”

“I?  I met one?”

“Yes, Monsieur, you!  And can lay your hand on him in five minutes, you know.”

M. de Tignonville gasped.  His face turned a shade paler.

“You have a spy,” he cried.  “You have a spy upstairs!”

Tavannes raised his cup to his lips, and drank.  When he had set it down—­

“It may be,” he said, and he shrugged his shoulders.  “I know, it boots not how I know.  It is my business to make the most of my knowledge—­and of yours!”

M. de Tignonville laughed rudely.  “Make the most of your own,” he said; “you will have none of mine.”

“That remains to be seen,” Count Hannibal answered.  “Carry your mind back two days, M. de Tignonville.  Had I gone to Mademoiselle de Vrillac last Saturday and said to her ‘Marry me, or promise to marry me,’ what answer would she have given?”

“She would have called you an insolent!” the young man replied hotly.  “And I—­”

“No matter what you would have done!” Tavannes said.  “Suffice it that she would have answered as you suggest.  Yet to-day she has given me her promise.”

“Yes,” the young man retorted, “in circumstances in which no man of honour—­”

“Let us say in peculiar circumstances.”

“Well?”

“Which still exist!  Mark me, M. de Tignonville,” Count Hannibal continued, leaning forward and eyeing the young man with meaning, “which still exist!  And may have the same effect on another’s will as on hers!  Listen!  Do you hear?” And rising from his seat with a darkening face, he pointed to the partly shuttered window, through which the measured tramp of a body of men came heavily to the ear.  “Do you hear, Monsieur?  Do you understand?  As it was yesterday it is to-day!  They killed the President La Place this morning!  And they are searching!  They are still searching!  The river is not yet full, nor the gibbet glutted!  I have but to open that window and denounce you, and your life would hang by no stronger thread than the life of a mad dog which they chase through the streets!”

The younger man had risen also.  He stood confronting Tavannes, the cowl fallen back from his face, his eyes dilated.

“You think to frighten me!” he cried.  “You think that I am craven enough to sacrifice her to save myself.  You—­”

“You were craven enough to draw back yesterday, when you stood at this window and waited for death!” Count Hannibal answered brutally.  “You flinched then, and may flinch again!”

“Try me!” Tignonville retorted, trembling with passion.  “Try me!” And then, as the other stared at him and made no movement, “But you dare not!” he cried.  “You dare not!”

“No?”