“A little town on the Lys; I shall only have to cross the river, and I shall be in a foreign country.”
“Capital! but it is understood you will only cross the river in case of danger.”
“That is well understood.”
“And in that case, how shall I know where you are?”
“You do not want your lackey?”
“Is he a sure man?”
“To the proof.”
“Give him to me. Nobody knows him. I will leave him at the place I quit, and he will conduct you to me.”
“And you say you will wait for me at Armentières?”
“At Armentières.”
“Write that name on a bit of paper, lest I should forget it. There is nothing compromising in the name of a town. Is it not so?”
“Eh, who knows? Never mind,” said Milady, writing the name on half a sheet of paper; “I will compromise myself.”
“Well,” said Rochefort, taking the paper from Milady, folding it, and placing it in the lining of his hat, “you may be easy. I will do as children do, for fear of losing the paper—repeat the name along the route. Now, is that all?”
“I believe so.”