uring her
with promises and tender words.

While this scene was taking place on deck, a very different one was
going on below, in Roberval's cabin. Gaillon, who must have been so
constituted that he could do without sleep, had seen Marguerite leave
her cabin and ascend the gangway. He knew that Claude had gone on deck,
and there was no doubt that the lovers were together. Now was his
chance. He stole to De Roberval's cabin, opened the door by some means
best known to himself, and, entering, touched the sleeping nobleman on
the shoulder.

Roberval was on his feet in an instant, and a dagger flashed at
Gaillon's throat. The man was prepared, however, and backed quickly
towards the door, where the light from the passage shone full upon his
face. Roberval uttered an oath when he saw who it was.

"Dog of an assassin!" exclaimed he, "what brings you here?"

"If your most noble highness will let me speak," said Gaillon, cringing
obsequiously, "I have important tidings which will not keep till
morning. Your niece is not in her room."

"Villain!" roared De Roberval, "be careful what you say, or, by Heaven,
I will run you through!"

"Your niece, most noble Sieur, has left her cabin, and is now on deck
with her lover. They are in the habit of meeting thus at night. I would
have warned you before, but dreaded to call down your anger on my own
head. Even now I would have kept silence, but the honour of your house
hangs in the balance."

Roberval appeared scarcely to hear the latter part of this speech. He
had turned his back on Gaillon, and was rapidly donning some clothes.
In two minutes he was fully dressed, and, turning hastily round,
exclaimed: "Who is the lookout to-night?"

"Blaise Perron, the Picard, Sieur. He has seen them together beyond a
doubt, and is now keeping watch for them against intruders."

This was a lie, but Gaillon did not stick at trifles.

"Get rid of him for me," said Roberval shortly. "I care not how."

Gaillon chuckled to himself as he followed his master up the gangway.
His schemes were turning out successful beyond his wildest hopes.

"Let us steal along to windward, Sieur," he whispered. "They are on the
lee side of the forecastle, and doubtless we shall come upon them in one
another's arms."

The noise of the wind and waves drowned their footsteps, and they were
able to approach unnoticed till they were within a few feet of the
lovers. Claude had just succeeded in persuading Marguerite