s committing. He
received me therefore with the laugh of a schoolboy detected in a petty
fault, and as I hastened to relate to him some of the things which M. de
Boisrose had said of the Baron de Rosny, I soon had the gratification of
perceiving that my presence was not taken amiss. His Majesty gave orders
that bedding should be furnished for my pavilion, and that his household
should wait on me, and himself sent me from his table a couple of
chickens and a fine melon, bidding me to come to him when I had supped.

I did so, and found him alone in his closet awaiting me with impatience;
he had already divined that I had not made this journey merely to
reproach him. Before informing him, however, of my suspicions, I craved
leave to ask him one or two questions, and in particular whether he had
been in the habit of going to Malesherbes daily.

"Daily," he admitted with a grimace. "What more, Father Confessor?"

"By what road, sire?"

"I have hunted mornings, and visited Malesherbes at midday. I have
returned as a rule by the bridle-path, which passes the Rock of the
Serpents."

"Patience, sire, one moment," I said. "Does that path run anywhere
through a plantation of box?"

"It does," he answered, without hesitation. "About half a mile on this
side of the rock, it skirts Queen Catherine's maze."

Thereon I told the King without reserve all that had happened. He
listened with the air of seeming carelessness which he always assumed
when plots against his life were under discussion; but at the end he
embraced me again with tears in his eyes. "France is beholden to you!"
he said. "I have never had, nor shall have, such another servant as you,
Rosny! The three ruffians at the inn," he continued, "are, of course,
the tools, and the hound has been in the habit of accompanying them to
the spot. Yesterday, I remember, I walked by that place with the bridle
on my arm."

"By a special providence, sire," I said gravely.

"It is true," he answered, crossing himself, a thing I had never yet
known him do in private. "But, now, who is the craftsman who has
contrived this pretty plot? Tell me that, Grand Master."

On this point, however, though I had my suspicions, I begged leave to be
excused until I had slept upon it. "Heaven forbid," I said, "that I
should expose any man to your Majesty's resentment without cause. The
wrath of kings is the forerunner of death."

"I have not heard," the King answered dryly, "that the Duke of