. "It was a snare, a guet-apens to which
they led us. Four of them set upon us in the Champs aux Capuchins. As
long as he lived, I stood beside him. But seeing him fallen, I come for
help."

"My God!" sobbed Rabecque, and loosed his grasp of Monsieur Gaubert's
shoulder.

"Who did it?" inquired Tressan, and his voice rumbled fiercely.

"I know not who they were. The man who picked the quarrel with Monsieur
de Garnache called himself Sanguinetti. There is a riot down there at
present. There was a crowd to witness the combat, and they have fallen
to fighting among themselves. Would to Heaven they had stirred in time
to save that poor gentleman from being murdered."

"A riot, did you say?" cried Tressan, the official seeming to awaken in
him.

"Aye," answered the other indifferently; "they are cutting one another's
throats."

"But... But... Are you sure that he is dead, monsieur?" inquired
Rabecque; and his tone was one that implored contradiction.

Gaubert looked and paused, seeming to give the matter a second's
thought. "I saw him fall," said he. "It may be that he was no more than
wounded."

"And you left him there?" roared the servant. "You left him there?"

Gaubert shrugged his shoulders. "What could I do against four? Besides,
the crowd was interfering already, and it seemed best to me to come for
help. These soldiers, now--"

"Aye," cut in Tressan, and he turned about and called the sergeant.
"This becomes my affair." And he announced his quality to Monsieur
Gaubert. "I am the Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny."

"I am fortunate in finding you," returned Gaubert, and bowed. "I could
place the matter in no better hand."

But Tressan, without heeding him, was already ordering the sergeant
to ride hard with his troopers for the Champs aux Capuchins. Rabecque,
however, thrust himself suddenly forward.

"Not so, Monsieur le Seneschal," he interposed in fresh alarm, and
mindful of his charge. "These men are here to guard Mademoiselle de La
Vauvraye. Let them remain. I will go to Monsieur de Garnache."

The Seneschal stared at him with contemptuously pouting underlip. "You
will go?" said he. "And what can you do alone? Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Monsieur de Garnache's servant."

"A lackey? Ah!" And Tressan turned aside and resumed his orders as
if Rabecque did not exist or had never spoken. "To the Champs aux
Capuchins!" said he. "At the gallop, Pommier! I will send others after
you."

The sergeant rose