e rose before him, and he seemed
to hear her voice as she had bade him farewell. The vision would not
down. At length he rose, and, draining a wine-cup, strode up and down
the room, muttering defiance at his enemies. "I was but God's servant
punishing vice," he said to himself, "and this fool who dares beard me
in my stronghold shall feel the weight of my hand. He shall die, and the
torture his existence inflicts on me shall end. We shall go hence
together, indeed, but he shall be carried forth. I would not even let
his body remain within my castle walls."

Kill La Pommeraye himself he knew he could not, but the old honour of
the man had become so sapped that he felt little compunction when he
resolved to have him murdered under his own roof. He knew that his own
life was not safe a moment while La Pommeraye lived; and he knew,
moreover, that should the truth of the story get abroad, his hopes of
advancement and honour would be at an end. There was no help for it; he
had gone too far to retreat. Charles must not be allowed to leave the
castle alive.

In Etienne, De Roberval thought he had a faithful ally. Twice had the
lad helped him to remove foes whom his rank would not allow him to
meet, and yet whom he could not send to the gallows. But he had reckoned
without his host this time. Etienne was a faithful henchman of the House
of Roberval, and he had aided his master when he thought the honour of
the family was at stake; but ever since the dim mists of the Isle of
Demons had faded from his sight, he had, with difficulty, kept his
strong, young hands from seizing his master by the throat, and choking
his life out. If he honoured the name he served, he worshipped the
memory of Marguerite; and now that La Pommeraye had come, as he
gathered, to avenge her, he was ready to fall at his feet, to follow him
to the ends of the earth, to the very Isle of Demons, if necessary.

Roberval guessed naught of all this. The heavy peasant face, the dull
eyes, well concealed the workings of the man's soul when the nobleman
called him into his presence, and hinted that he would need his sword
the next day. Etienne guessed his purpose at once, and, when the plan
was revealed, would fain have run his master through the heart, but his
face and eye had an ox-like lack of intelligence.

"Are you ready to risk your life in this enterprise?" said the nobleman.
"It is for the honour of the House of Roberval."

"I am at your service, Sieur,"