kill you!”

“Monsieur, monsieur,” cried Mazarin, “you are breaking your word to me!”

“I — did I promise you anything, my lord?”

Mazarin groaned.

“You are free,” he said, “through me; your liberty was my ransom.”

“Agreed; but the ransom of that immense treasure buried under the gallery, to which one descends on pushing a spring hidden in the wall, which causes a tub to turn, revealing a staircase — must not one speak of that a little, my lord?”

“Diavolo!” cried Mazarin, almost choked, and clasping his hands; “I am a lost and ruined man!”