ll you to account
for every minute's delay."

"You, not me; I did not founder your horse." The half banter passed
from his voice, and the bronzed face hardened. "And we have accounts
enough as it is, the King and I."

"Pray God he pays his debts and mine, and that I be there to see,"
retorted Beaufoy, exasperated out of all prudence. "Again, in the
King's name I demand your help. I must have a horse. Two of your men
can ride double."

"Must this! Demand that! Tut, tut! you forget the reasons behind me."
But though he spoke with a return of the banter which goaded the
unfortunate Beaufoy almost to madness, his eyes were keenly alert and
there was no smile in the mockery. Had Beaufoy been a Philip de
Commines he would have known that jest with no laughter at its back is
more dangerous than a threat. "Where are you going?"

"That is my affair and the King's."

Lurching forward in the saddle the elder man--he was eight or ten years
the senior--shook his clenched gauntlet in Beaufoy's face, his own
crimson from the gust of passion which suddenly swept across it. "The
King! The King! The King!" he cried furiously. "Curse you and your
King! What devil's plot is that lying old tiger-fox scheming now that
you ride to death an honester brute than either of you? Whose murder
comes next? Or are you from Valmy at all? Give some account of
yourself."

"If you are a gentleman, if you are not a coward as well as a bully,"
answered Beaufoy, his face as white as the other's was flushed, "come
down from your horse and meet me man to man. You'll not ask me to give
an account of myself a second time."

"That is Valmy all over! Give up my advantage that you may gain! And
who are you with your musts and demands?"

"My name is Beaufoy----"

"Then you are not from Valmy," broke in the other, running on Beaufoy's
name, "for no faith, beau, bonne, or belle, ever came out of Valmy."

With a shrug of his shoulders Beaufoy turned on his heel. "Coward as
well as bully," he began, but at a sign from their leader the troop
gathered round, hemming him in in a circle.

"Now that my reasons are plainer to you, will you answer my
question--where are you going? No reply? And yet no one understands
the logic of numbers better than your coward of a master. But I'll
have my answer. Are you going to Blois? No! To Tours? No! Amboise?
Ah! your eyes have a tongue of their own. You cannot have lived very
long in Valmy, m