There could
not be the least doubt that it was this which the fellow had striven so
frantically to conceal upon the first alarm of the approach of a
stranger. I took it down and held it to the light. It was a small
square of yellow glazed cloth tied round with white tape. Upon my
opening it a number of letters appeared, and a single large paper folded
up. The addresses upon the letters took my breath away. The first that
I glanced at was to Citizen Talleyrand. The others were in the
Republican style addressed to Citizen Fouche, to Citizen Soult, to
Citizen MacDonald, to Citizen Berthier, and so on through the whole list
of famous names in war and in diplomacy who were the pillars of the new
Empire. What in the world could this pretended merchant of coffee have
to write to all these great notables about? The other paper would
explain, no doubt. I laid the letters upon the shelf and I unfolded the
paper which had been enclosed with them. It did not take more than the
opening sentence to convince me that the salt-marsh outside might prove
to be a very much safer place than this accursed cottage.
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