ion of the Professor's exposition.

"Let Wolf Guise eat Wolf Valois, or Wolf Valois dine off Wolf Guise--so
much the better for the Sheep of the Fold," he commented freely, as
became his cap-and-bells, which in these days had more liberty of
prophecy than the wisdom of the wisest.

CHAPTER VI.

THE ARCHER'S CLOAK

As they left Paris behind and rode down the Orleans road, it soon became
evident that they had changed their surroundings. Men-at-arms, Scots
Guards, with great white crosses on their blue tabards, glared at the
four suspiciously. Cavaliers glanced suspiciously as they galloped past.
Some halted, as if only prevented from investigating the circumstances
by the haste of their mission. Gay young men, on passaging horses, half
drew their swords and growled unintelligible remarks, desisting only at
the sight of Claire Agnew's pale face underneath her hood.

"What can be the matter?" they asked each other. "Why do we, who passed
through swarming Paris in the flood-tide of rebellion, who scrambled on
barricades and were given drink by the King's enemies--why should we now
be looked askance at, riding peaceably Orleans-ward on our own hired
beasts?"

None found an answer, but deep in every heart there was the conviction,
universal in such a case, that somehow it was the other fellow's fault.
It was Cabbage Jock who solved the mystery.

"In Rome you must do as the Romans," he said; "in Babylon's cursed city,
though an abomination to do obeisance to the great whore (as sayeth the
Scripture), I have found it of remarkable service to don her uniform
occasionally--even as Paul did when he took shelter behind his Roman
citizenship. It is that green furred gown of yours, Sir Professor! These
be King's men, hasting after the Master of the Mignons. I'll wager the
nest is empty and the bird flown from under the pents of the Louvre."

"And what shall I do?" said the Professor of the Sorbonne, looking
regretfully at the fine Spanish cloth and rich fur. "Am I to cast away a
matter of twenty good golden Henries?"

"By no means," said Cabbage Jock; "I came away somewhat hastily, to do
you service. I have no saddle saving these two millers' bags. I will
fold the good gown beneath the two, and so sit comfortable as on an
ale-house couch, while you will ride safe----"

"And plumeless as a docked parrot," said the Abbe John, who was now
sufficiently far from Paris to begin to laugh at his master--at least a
little,