t,
though what he hoped to gain even if he did succeed in overtaking her,
guarded as she was, he had no definite idea. The sentinel whom he
questioned told him the direction Roberval had taken, and added the
further information that a single horseman had but just ridden in hot
haste after him, by a different route. A suspicion instantly flashed
through Charles' mind, and the description of Claude furnished by the
man left no doubt as to the rider's identity. Without stopping to
consider the wisdom of his course--thinking only of Marguerite, whom he
could not hope to see once she was behind those battlemented
walls--Charles turned his horse, and galloped off by the third of the
three roads mentioned. It was a shorter cut than either of the other
two, but one which few travellers ever took, as every mile had witnessed
some deed of violence from the bands of robbers who haunted it.

Roberval and his party made their way leisurely along the dusty road
they had chosen, while the two young men rode with fevered haste along
their less frequented paths. Towards noon the three were rapidly
converging towards the same point, at which they would arrive almost
simultaneously.

Claude, who was mounted on a swift charger, which had more than once
carried him to victory in a tournament, was the first to reach this
point. Scanning the ground he noted that no cavalcade had as yet passed
that way. As he sat his horse and waited, the measured galloping of
hoofs coming towards Paris fell upon his ears. He did not wish to meet
strangers, so withdrew into a thick grove at one side of the road.
Scarcely was he concealed when half a dozen hard riders, well horsed and
armed at every point, drew rein at the very spot where he had first
checked his steed. They surveyed the road hurriedly, and at a word from
their leader plunged into a thicket at the opposite side.

"There is trouble in store for some one," said Claude to himself. "If I
am not much mistaken, the leader of that gang of cut-throats is none
other than Narcisse Belleau, whom, despite his good French and vehement
protestations, I believe to be a Spanish spy. And now to my dagger and
sword; I may need them. I would La Pommeraye were only here to lend his
eye and arm to the coming struggle."

Scarcely had he finished examining his weapons when a cloud of dust
slowly advancing in the distance told him that a party of considerable
size was on its way towards the ambuscade. He anxiously