at purpose, Leslie returned to the door.

"Are you ready, Sire?"

An affirmative wave of the hand was the answer, as, high upon his
pillows and pushed to the very outer edge of the bed, the King leaned
forward. Was he ready? He dared not say so. Words do not come easily
when life or death waits uncertain behind the door.

"Have you slept, Sire?"

"No." The voice was firmer as the hard will regained the upper hand,
but it was harsh, dry, curt. "Perhaps I'll sleep--later. Please God
I'll sleep later. Send them in."

But in the ante-room Leslie paused a moment.

"Take off those riding gloves," he said sharply. "You must know little
of kings' courts. Leave them on the table. You can pick them up as
you go out."

"I know my duty," answered Molembrais, "and that is enough for me." To
speak sharply steadied his nerve. But at the door he stood aside and
motioned to La Mothe. "Do you go in first." Again it was not that his
courage failed him, but La Mothe would be so much covert, La Mothe
would draw the King's attention. It would ruin everything if, while he
was on the very threshold, the King should cry out, Where is Beaufoy?

But Louis never gave him a glance. As the light fell upon La Mothe's
face he drew a shivering sigh and clenched his teeth with a snap. Life
or death had passed the door--which was it?

"Come nearer," he said, beckoning. "Nearer yet. You, Beaufoy, stay
there by the door. The Dauphin?--Charles?"

"Well, Sire."

"Well!" The beckoning hand dropped, then he leaned forward, covering
his face. "Oh, God--God--God--God be thanked!" he sobbed, his
shoulders shaking in convulsions as he fought for breath. "God be
thanked!" La Mothe heard him whisper a second time, and in the silence
Molembrais crept forward and aside, edging by the wall where the
shadows were thickest. The lamp was his danger. He must quench the
lamp and strike in the dark. Forward and aside he stole towards the
table.

Suddenly Louis reared himself upright, again shaking a hand before him,
but this time in a threat.

"I cancelled my orders: where--where----"

"The mask is destroyed, Sire."

"Destroyed? Safely?"

"Safely, Sire."

"And the Dauphin--Charles--does he know----"

Again he paused, and again La Mothe filled the blank, reading into the
completed words the uncompleted question.

"The Dauphin knows nothing but that the gifts were mine."

"Yours! Yes, yours, yours only, and you dared--who