her,
comforting each other.

"At least," I cried in desperation, "Monsieur has the spy."

He laughed. Only a man in utter despair could have laughed then as he
did.

"Even the spy to wreak vengeance on consoles you somewhat, Felix? But
does it seem to you fair that a tool should be punished when the leaders
go free?"

"No," said I; "but it is the common way."

"That is a true word," he said, turning away again.

I waited till he faced me once more.

"Monsieur will not suffer the spy to go free?"

"No, Felix. He shall be punished lest he betray again."

He passed me in his dreary walk. Half a dozen times he passed by me, a
broken-hearted man, striving to collect his courage to take up his life
once more. But I thought he would never get over the blow. A husband may
forget his wife's treachery, and a mother will forgive her child's, but
a father can neither forget nor forgive the crime of the son who bears
his name.

"Ah, Monsieur, you are noble, and I love you!" I cried from the depths
of my heart, and knelt to kiss his hand.

Monsieur laid that kind hand on my shoulder.

"You shall serve me. Go now and send Vigo here. I must be looking to the
country's business."

X

_Lucas and "Le Gaucher."_

I cursed myself for a fool that I had carried the tale to Monsieur. It
should have been my business to keep a still tongue and go kill
Yeux-gris myself. For this last it was not yet too late.

Marcel was hanging about in the corridor, and to him I gave the word for
Vigo. I tore away from his eager questionings and hurried to the gate.

In the morning I had not been able to get in, and now I could no more
get out. By Vigo's orders, no man might leave the house.

Vigo was after the spy, of course. Monsieur knew the traitor now; he
would inform Vigo, and the gates would be open for honest men. But that
might take time and I could not wait five minutes. I had the audacity to
cry to the guards:

"M. le Duc will let me pass out. I refer you to M. le Duc."

The men were impressed. They had a respect for me, since I had been
closeted with Monsieur. Yet they dared not disobey Vigo for their lives.
In this dilemma the poor sentry, fearful of getting into trouble
whatever he did, sent up an envoy to ask Monsieur. I was frightened
then. I had uttered my speech in sheer bravado, and was very doubtful as
to how he would answer my impudence. But he was utterly careless, I
trow, what I did, for presently the wor