y clue; he must hunt him out wherever he might be. One of two
things had occurred: either Richard had tired of her, or he had lost her
by mischance of travel. There was a third possible thing, that the Queen
had had her murdered. He put that from him, being sure she was not dead.
'Death,' said Gilles, 'is great, but not great enough to have Jehane in
her beauty.' He really believed this. So he came back to his two
positions. If the King had tired of her, he would not scruple (being as
he was) to admit as much to Gilles. If he had lost her, he was safe in
prison; and Gilles knew that with time he could find her. But he must
be sure. He thought of another thing. 'If he is in prison, in chains, he
might be stabbed with certain ease.' His heart exulted at the hot
thought.

It was not hard to follow back on Martin's dallying footsteps. He traced
him to Venice, to Trieste, up the mountains as far as Blomau. There he
lost him, and shot very wide of the mark. In fact, the slow-witted young
man went to Vienna on a false rumour--but it boots not recount his
wanderings. Six months after he left Ancona, ragged, hatless, unkempt,
hungry, he came within sight of the strong towers of Gratz; and as he
went limping by the town ditch he heard a clear, high voice singing--

Li dous consire
Quem don' Ainors soven--

and knew that he had run down his man.

One other, crouching under the wall, most intent watcher, saw him stop
as if hit, clap his hand to his shock-head, then listen, brooding,
working his jaws from side to side. The voice stayed; Gilles turned and
slowly went his way back. He limped under the gateway into the town, and
the croucher by the wall peered at him between the meshes of her
dishevelled hair.

CHAPTER XI

THE CHAPTER CALLED _A LATERE_

The Old Man of Musse, Lord of all the Assassins, descendant of Ali,
Fulness of Light, Master of them that eat hemp, and many things beside,
wedded Jehane and made her his principal wife. He valued in her, apart
from her bodily perfections, her discretion, obedience, good sense, and
that extraordinary sort of pride which makes its possessor humble, so
inset it is; too proud, you may say, to give pride a thought. Esteeming
her at this price, it is not remarkable if she came to be his only wife.

This was the manner of her life. When her husband left her, which was
very early in the morning, she generally slept for an hour, then rose
and went to the bath. Her bo