llowed him as returning, in passing the sergeant's prompt salute he
vanished through the doorway leading to the stairs.

He reappeared again a moment later, to call the host, and give him
orders for the preparing of his own and Rabecque's supper.

On the landing above he found Rabecque awaiting him.

"Is all well?" he asked, and received from his lackey a reassuring
answer.

Mademoiselle welcomed him gladly. His long absence, it appeared, had
been giving her concern. He told her on what errand he had been, and
alarm overspread her face upon hearing its result.

"But, monsieur," she cried, "you are not proposing that I should remain
a night in Grenoble."

"What alternative have we?" he asked, and his brows met, impatient at
what he accounted no more than feminine whimsey.

"It is not safe," she exclaimed, her fears increasing. "You do not know
how powerful are the Condillacs."

He strode to the fire, and the logs hissed under the pressure of his wet
boot. He set his back to the blaze, and smiled down upon her.

"Nor do you know how powerful are we," he answered easily. "I have below
six troopers and a sergeant of the Seneschal's regiment; with myself
and Rabecque we are nine men in all. That should be a sufficient guard,
mademoiselle. Nor do I think that with all their power the Condillacs
will venture here to claim you at the sword point."

"And yet," she answered, for all that she was plainly reassured, at
least in part, "I would rather you had got me a horse, that we might
have ridden to Saint Marcellin, where no doubt a carriage might be
obtained."

"I did not see the need to put you to so much discomfort," he returned.
"It is raining heavily."

"Oh, what of that?" she flung back impatiently.

"Besides," he added, "it seems there are no horses at the post-house. A
benighted place this Dauphiny of yours, mademoiselle."

But she never heeded the gibe at her native province. "No horses?" she
echoed, and her hazel eyes looked up sharply, the alarm returning to her
face. She rose, and approached him. "Surely that is impossible."

"I assure you that it is as I say--neither at the post-house nor at any
of the inns I visited could I find me a spare horse."

"Monsieur," she cried, "I see the hand of Condillac in this."

"As how?" he inquired, and his tone again was quickened by impatience.

"They have anticipated you. They seek to keep you here--to keep us in
Grenoble."

"But to what end?" he asked, his