reach of human hearing. Stumbling across the room, I lay
down on a mattress and endeavoured to account for the events of the
last two days.

From a few words let fall by the officer, it appeared that some one had
killed, or attempted to kill, the prince, and I had been arrested as
the assassin. That the plot was hatched by the Abbe's party I had
learned from Pillot, though, as it afterwards appeared, no one intended
anything more serious than kidnapping Conde and shutting him up in a
safe place.

Now, in an enterprise of this daring nature, the actual leader was
likely to be my cousin Henri, and working from this I began to piece
together a very tolerable story, which after events proved not to have
been far wrong. My previous adventures had proved how easy it was to
mistake me for my cousin, and on this point the conspiracy hinged. If
the plot succeeded, well and good; if not, it was necessary to show
that the Abbe's party had nothing to do with the affair.

I was well known as a devoted _Masarin_, and it was no secret that the
Cardinal, though banished, still communicated with his friends in the
capital. What more likely then, than that the attempt on Conde's life
was made by _Masarins_? And if so, who more likely to lead it than the
penniless youth who had refused point-blank to join any of the other
parties? Mazarin, it would be asserted, must have left me in Paris for
this very purpose.

Then again the crafty plotters had so arranged that everything would
fit neatly into place. It could easily be proved that I had suddenly
disappeared and remained in hiding till the appointed night, when,
having failed in my object, I had hurriedly and secretly left the city.
This, I concluded, was the outline of the plot, but De Retz and my
cousin had not made allowance for the cowardly treachery of Maubranne
and Peleton.

These worthies, by both of whom I had the honour of being much hated,
had worked out a different, and to them, a much more satisfactory
ending. If Conde's assassin could be caught, red-handed as it were,
and slain by the angry people, there would be an end to the business.
For this purpose they had conducted the mob to my prison, but the
speedy arrival of the soldiers had upset their plans; Maubranne was
dead, and I lay on a mattress in La Calotte de la Baziniere.

"_Peste!_" I exclaimed irritably, "I have intrigued myself into an ugly
mess. This comes of being too clever. What will they do wi