the
lock of the low door with the air of a man shutting up his own mansion
for the night.

They went closely past Jean's hiding-place and, to his amazement, took
the very way by the water-side, down the Street of the Butchery, by
which he had come. More wonderful still, they turned aside without
hesitation--or rather, their leader did--into the yard of Anthony
Arpajon. Silently Jean-aux-Choux stalked them. How could they know? Was
it treachery? Was it an ambush? At any rate, it was his duty to warn the
Bearnais--that was evident.

But how? The blue-bloused carters and teamsters, wearing the silken
sashes fringed so quaintly with silver bells, were asleep all about. But
Jean-aux-Choux darted from sack to sack, dived beneath waggons, ran up
stairways of rough wood. And presently, before the leader of the four
had done parleying with the white-capped man behind the bar, the
intruders were surrounded by thirty veterans of Henry of Navarre's most
trusted guards. The chain mail showed under the trussed blouses of the
wine-carriers. And D'Epernon, looking round, saw himself the centre of a
ring of armed men.

"Ah," he said, with superb and even insolent coolness, "is it thus you
keep your watch, you of the old Huguenot phalanx, you who, from father
to son, have made your famous family compact with death? Here I find you
asleep in a hostile city, where Guise could rouse a thousand men in an
hour! Or I myself, if so minded----"

"I think, my Lord Duke," said D'Aubigne, putting his sword to the Duke's
breast, "that long before your clarion sounded its first blast, one fine
gentleman might chance to find himself in the Loire with as many holes
in him as a nutmeg-grater!"

"It might indeed be so, sir," said the Duke, still haughtily, "but on
this occasion I shall literally go scot-free. Wake your master, the King
of Navarre. Tell him that the Duke of Epernon craves leave to speak with
him immediately. He is alone, and has come far and risked much to meet
His Majesty. Also, I bid you say that I come on the part of Francis
Agnew the Scot, whom he knows!"

"You bid!" cried D'Aubigne, whose temper was not over long in the grain.
"Learn, then, that none bids me save my master, and he is neither King's
minister nor King's minion."

"Sir," said the Duke, "I do not need to prove my courage, any more than
the gentlemen of my Lord of Navarre. At another time and in another
place I am at your service. In the meantime, will you have