months; so he made up his mind to
pay a second visit to Fontainebleau, see what could be done in view of
the following spring, and take his niece and ward back to Picardy with
him for the winter.

While he was in St Malo his steps were dogged, unknown to him, by a
swarthy young mariner who had been engaged for the voyage. He had a
French name, but a Spanish face; and Cartier, meeting him one day in the
street, exclaimed: "Pamphilo de Narvaez, or his ghost!"

"I have been twice mistaken for that Spaniard, whose name I never heard
till I came to this place," said the young man. "My name is Narcisse
Belleau. Narvaez' bones lie at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico--at
least so M. de la Pommeraye told me when he engaged me for this voyage."

"A most remarkable resemblance!" returned Cartier. "I would as soon have
the Devil on board _La Grande Hermine_ as De Narvaez. Be sure, young
man, you join one of the other vessels. Belleau is your name, you say? A
good name, but a Narvaez face!"

As he turned away the young Spaniard, for such he was, chuckled to
himself: "A good name, indeed! And you and your fellows will rue the day
you ever looked upon this face."

He was in very truth Pamphilo de Narvaez, a son of the famous sailor of
that name, and had been sent as a spy from the Spanish Court to discover
if the rumours of a mighty expedition being fitted out to occupy the New
World--Spain's peculiar property--were true. Seeing that Roberval was
the soul of the undertaking, he determined to bide his time, strike him
down, and save Spain a bloody war in America. He learned that Roberval
meant to visit Fontainebleau, and from there to set out with his niece
for Picardy. A meeting on the road, with a few dare-devils to aid him,
would end the expedition and win him honours and prosperity on his
return to Spain.

So he planned; and when he had succeeded he would go to America and
finish the work of exploration begun by his illustrious father.

In the meantime Claude and Charles, committing their stores and
prisoners to the charge of Cartier, left St Malo, neither telling the
other whither he was bound. By different roads, and almost
simultaneously, they turned their horses' heads towards Paris; both
hoping to meet Roberval and his party as they passed through that city
on their way to their northern home. They reached their destination
without encountering each other, took lodgings in adjoining streets,
and, each unconscious of th