the fashion. He was
heavily booted, and sat sideways on a settle with his left hand tucked
in his belt and a great right elbow on the board. Something in his pose,
half rustic, half braggart, seemed familiar to Gaspard. The next second
the two were in each other's arms.

"Gawain Champernoun!" cried Gaspard. "When I left you by the Isle
of Pines I never hoped to meet you again in a Paris inn? What's your
errand, man, in this den of thieves?"

"Business of state," the Englishman laughed. "I have been with
Walsingham, her Majesty's Ambassador, and looked to start home to-night.
But your city is marvellous unwilling to part with her guests. What's
toward, Gaspard?"

"For me, supper," and he fell with zest to the broiled fowl he had
ordered. The other sent for another flask of the wine of Anjou,
observing that he had a plaguy thirst.

"I think," said Gaspard, at last raising his eyes from his food, "that
Paris will be unwholesome to-night for decent folk."

"There's a murrain of friars about," said Champernoun, leisurely picking
his teeth.

"The place hums like a bee-hive before swarming. Better get back to your
Ambassador, Gawain. There's sanctuary for you under his cloak."

The Englishman made a pellet of bread and flicked it at the other's
face. "I may have to box your ears, old friend. Since when have I taken
to shirking a fracas? We were together at St. John d'Ulloa, and you
should know me better."

"Are you armed?" was Gaspard's next question.

Champernoun patted his sword. "Also there are pistols in my holsters."

"You have a horse, then?"

"Stabled within twenty yards. My rascally groom carried a message to Sir
Francis, and as he has been gone over an hour, I fear he may have come
to an untimely end."

"Then it will be well this night for us two to hold together. I know our
Paris mob and there is nothing crueller out of hell. The pistolling of
the Admiral de Coligny has given them a taste of blood, and they may
have a fancy for killing Luteranos. Two such as you and I, guarding each
other's backs, may see sport before morning, and haply rid the world of
a few miscreants. What say you, camerado?"

"Good. But what account shall we give of ourselves if someone questions
us?"

"Why, we are Spanish esquires in the train of King Philip's Mission. Our
clothes are dark enough for the dons' fashion, and we both speak their
tongue freely. Behold in me the Senor Juan Gonzalez de Mendoza, a poor
knight of Cas