ither attack or escape. How could he have, when
every angle of the stairs, every corridor, every room through which
they passed was strange to him? But if he had no plan, he had a
purpose firmly set in his determination, which neither gloom nor chill
could check; from that purpose, that stern, stubborn justice of
revenge, he never shrank, beyond it he never looked. Somehow he would
get Louis of France into his grip, and somehow he would break to
liberty. At the door of the King's ante-room Leslie met them, and
their guide stepped aside: his work was done.

In silence Molembrais held up the signet. Instinctively he felt that
neither bluster nor importunity would serve him now. Then he glanced
aside at La Mothe. "We must see the King and at once," he almost
whispered. His heart was beating to suffocation, and in his dread of
failure he feared the excitement in his voice would betray him at the
last.

"Where from?"

"Amboise."

Leslie nodded comprehendingly. That Paul Beaufoy should go and a
stranger return was quite in keeping with the King's devious methods.
"Give me your sword and then I will waken him. I think he expects you."

"My sword?" The request staggered him. He had relied upon his sword
for the one thrust necessary, then to aid him in his escape, or at
least that he might die fighting.

"Don't you know that no one approaches the King armed? not even I, not
even Lessaix. There is nothing personal in it."

"No, I never heard that." He stood a minute, gnawing his lip, then
wrenched the buckle open. What matter, he had his dagger hidden!

Laying the weapon aside, Leslie softly lifted the portiere, holding it
looped with one hand while with the other he opened the door very
gently.

"Sire!"

"Is that Leslie? I am awake."

"There are messengers from Amboise. Your Majesty's signet----"

"Thank God! Oh, thank God! Lord God! Mother of God! Christ of God!
grant he was in time." The voice was thin and tremulous, the end
almost a sob. "Turn up the lamp, Leslie, and leave them with me alone.
Mercy of God! strengthen me for what is to come."

Dropping the portiere behind him, Leslie crossed the room with a
quietness rare in one so roughly natured and so strongly built. But
Louis had the power of winning men's affections when it so pleased him,
and it was politic to win the man who held his life in care. Loosening
the wick in its socket with the silver pin hanging from the lamp for
th