I flatter myself that I conducted the business with remarkable skill.At precisely ten minutes to eleven I rang at the Chancellerie of theMinistry for Foreign Affairs. I was dressed as a respectablecommissionnaire, and I carried a letter and a small parcel addressedto M. de Marsan. "First floor," said the concierge curtly, as soon ashe had glanced at the superscription on the letter. "Door faces top ofthe service stairs."
I mounted and took my stand some ten steps below the landing, keepingthe door of M. de Marsan's room well in sight. Just as the bells ofNotre Dame boomed the hour I heard what sounded like a furiousaltercation somewhere in the corridor just above me. There was muchshouting, then one or two cries of "Murder!" followed by others of"What is it?" and "What in the name of ----- is all this infernal rowabout?" Doors were opened and banged, there was a general running andrushing along that corridor, and the next minute the door in front ofme was opened also, and a young man came out, pen in hand, andshouting just like everybody else:
"What the ------ is all this infernal row about?"
"Murder, help!" came from the distant end of the corridor, and M. deMarsan--undoubtedly it was he--did what any other young man under thelike circumstances would have done: he ran to see what was happeningand to lend a hand in it, if need be. I saw his slim figuredisappearing down the corridor at the very moment that I slipped intohis room. One glance upon the desk sufficed: there lay the largeofficial-looking document, with the royal signature affixed thereto,and close beside it the copy which M. de Marsan had only halffinished--the ink on it was still wet. Hesitation, Sir, would havebeen fatal. I did not hesitate; not one instant. Three seconds hadscarcely elapsed before I picked up the document, together with M. deMarsan's half-finished copy of the same, and a few loose sheets ofChancellerie paper which I thought might be useful. Then I slipped thelot inside my blouse. The bogus letter and parcel I left behind me, andwithin two minutes of my entry into the room I was descending theservice staircase quite unconcernedly, and had gone past the concierge'slodge without being challenged. How thankful I was to breathe once morethe pure air of heaven. I had spent an exceedingly agitated fiveminutes, and even now my anxiety was not altogether at rest. I dared notwalk too fast lest I attracted attention, and yet I wanted to put theriver, the Pont Neuf, and a half dozen streets between me and theChancellerie of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. No one who has not gonethrough such an exciting adventure as I have just recorded can conceivewhat were my feelings of relief and of satisfaction when I at last foundmyself quietly mounting the stairs which led to my office on the topfloor of No. 96 Rue Daunou.