her face, appearing to give round-eyed
speculation to the fire.

"It is believed that D'Aulnay sent by that strange woman a box of poison
into the fort to work secret mischief. But," added the dwarf, looking up
in open perplexity, "that box cannot now be found."

"Perhaps you can tell what manner of box it was," said Lady Dorinda with
irony, though a dull red was startled into her cheeks.

"Madame Marie says it was a tiny box of oak, thick set with nails. She
would not alarm the fort, so she had search made for it in Madame
Bronck's name."

Lady Dorinda, incredulous, but trembling, divined at once that the dwarf
had hid that coffer in her chest. Perhaps the dwarf had procured the
hand and replaced some valuable of Madame Bronck's with it. She longed
to have the little beast shaken and made to confess. While she was
considering what she could do with dignity, Zelie rapped and was
admitted, and Le Rossignol escaped into outside darkness.

Hours passed, however, before Shubenacadie's mistress sought his
society. She undressed in her black cell which had but one loophole
looking toward the north, and taking the swan upon her bed tried to
reconcile him to blankets. But Shubenacadie protested with both wings
against a woolly covering which was not in his experience. The times
were disjointed for him. He took no interest in Lady Dorinda and the
box of Madame Bronck, and scratched the pallet with his toes and the
nail at the end of his bill. But Le Rossignol pushed him down and
pressed her confidences upon this familiar.

"So her highness threw that box out into the fort. I had to shiver and
wait until Zelie left her, but I knew she would choose to rid herself of
it through a window, for she would scarce burn it, she hath not
adroitness to drop it in the hall, show it to Madame Marie she would
not, and keep it longer to poison her court gowns she dare not. She hath
found it before this. Her looking-glass was the only place apter than
that chest. I would give much to know what her yellow highness thought
of that hand. Here, mine own Shubenacadie, I have brought thee this
sweet biscuit moistened with water. Eat, and scratch me not.

"And little did its studding of nails avail the box, for the fall split
it in three pieces; and I hid them under rubbish, for mortar and stones
are plentiful down there. You should have seen my shade stretch under
the moon like a tall hobgoblin. The nearest sentinel on the wall
challenges me.