"Ah, but this man has good blood in him; and if he flies at all he will
fly high. Think of this man fifty years ago; what a possibility he
would have been! But it is out of fashion to-day. Well, monsieur, I
must be off. There is an old manuscript at the Bibliothèque I wish to
inspect."

"Concerning this matter?"

"Butterflies," softly; "or, I should say, chrysalides."

The subtle inference passed by the minister. There were many other
things to-ing and fro-ing in the busy corridors of his brain. "I shall
hear from you frequently?"

"As often as the situation requires. By the way, I have an idea. When
I cable you the word butterfly, prepare yourself accordingly. It will
mean that the bomb is ready."

"Good luck attend you, my savant," said the minister, with a
friendliness which was deep and genuine. He had known Monsieur Ferraud
in other days. "And, above all, take care of yourself."

"Trust me, Count." And the secret agent departed, to appear again in
these chambers only when his work was done.

"A strange man," mused the minister when he was alone. "A still
stranger business for a genuine scholar. Is he really poor? Does he
do this work to afford him ease and time for his studies? Or, better
still, does he hide a great and singular patriotism under butterfly