per by an effort and speaking with dignity. "You told me that by
the King's order no one could cross; and you arrested me because,
having urgent need to visit St. Germain, I persisted. Now what does
this mean, Captain Pallavicini? Others are crossing. I ask what this
means?"

"Whatever you please, M. de Pavannes," the Italian retorted
contemptuously. "Explain it for yourself!"

I started as the name struck my ear, and at once cried out in surprise,
"M. de Pavannes!" Had I heard aright?

Apparently I had, for the prisoner turned to me with a bow. "Yes, sir,"
he said with dignity, "I am M. de Pavannes. I have not the honour of
knowing you, but you seem to be a gentleman." He cast a withering
glance at the captain as he said this. "Perhaps you will explain to me
why this violence has been done to me. If you can, I shall consider it
a favour; if not, pardon me."

I did not answer him at once, for a good reason--that every faculty I
had was bent on a close scrutiny of the man himself. He was fair, and
of a ruddy complexion. His beard was cut in the short pointed fashion
of the court; and in these respects he bore a kind of likeness, a
curious likeness, to Louis de Pavannes. But his figure was shorter and
stouter. He was less martial in bearing, with more of the air of a
scholar than a soldier. "You are related to M. Louis de Pavannes?" I
said, my heart beginning to beat with an odd excitement. I think I
foresaw already what was coming.

"I am Louis de Pavannes," he replied with impatience.

I stared at him in silence: thinking--thinking--thinking. And then I
said slowly, "You have a cousin of the same name?"

"I have."

"He fell prisoner to the Vicomte de Caylus at Moncontour?"

"He did," he answered curtly. "But what of that, sir?"

Again I did not answer--at once. The murder was out. I remembered, in
the dim fashion in which one remembers such things after the event,
that I had heard Louis de Pavannes, when we first became acquainted
with him, mention this cousin of the same name; the head of a younger
branch. But our Louis living in Provence and the other in Normandy,
the distance between their homes, and the troubles of the times had
loosened a tie which their common religion might have strengthened.
They had scarcely ever seen one another. As Louis had spoken of his
namesake but once during his long stay with us, and I had not then
foreseen the connection to be formed between our families,