Wogan leaned forward with a question on his tongue he hardly dared to
ask. So much hung upon the answer.

"And M. Chateaudoux is allowed to come and go?"

"In the daylight."

Wogan turned to the Cardinal. "The box will be the best box in the
house," Wogan suggested.

"Oh, sir," replied the Cardinal, "on the first tier, to be sure."

Wogan turned back to the Chevalier.

"All that I need now is a letter from your Majesty to the King of Poland
and a few rascally guineas. I can leave Bologna before a soul's astir in
the morning. No one but Whittington saw me to-day, and a word will keep
him silent. There will be secrecy--" but the Chevalier suddenly cut him
short.

"No," said he, bringing the palm of his hand down upon the table.
"Here's a blow that we must bend to! It's a dream, this plan of yours."

"But a dream I'll dream so hard, sir, that I'll dream it true," cried
Wogan, in despair.

"No, no," said the Chevalier. "We'll talk no more of it. There's God's
will evident in this arrest, and we must bend to it;" and at once Wogan
remembered his one crowning argument. It was so familiar to his