th M. le Comte; so, eased of
that care, I set out for the Hotel de Lorraine, one of the inn-servants
with a flambeau coming along to guide and guard me. M. Etienne was a
favourite in this inn of Maitre Menard's; they did not stop to ask
whether he had money in his purse before falling over one another in
their eagerness to serve him. It is my opinion that one gets more out of
the world by dint of fair words than by a long purse or a long sword.

We had not gone a block from the inn before I turned to the right-about,
to the impatience of my escort.

"Nay, Jean, I must go back," I said. "I will only delay a moment, but
see Maitre Menard I must."

He was still in the cabaret where the crowd was thinning.

"Now what brings you back?"

"This, maitre," said I, drawing him into a corner. "M. le Comte has been
in a fracas to-night, as you perchance may have divined. His arch-enemy
gave us the slip. And I am not easy for monsieur while this Lucas is at
large. He has the devil's own cunning and malice; he might track him
here to the Three Lanterns. Therefore, maitre, I beg you to admit no one
to M. le Comte--no one on any business whatsoever. Not if he comes from
the Duke of Mayenne himself."

"I won't admit the Sixteen themselves," the maitre declared.

"There is one man you may admit," I conceded. "Vigo, M. de St. Quentin's
equery. You will know him for the biggest man in France."

"Good. And this other; what is he like?"

"He is young," I said, "not above four or five and twenty. Tall and
slim,--oh, without doubt, a gentleman. He has light-brown hair and thin,
aquiline face. His tongue is unbound, too."

"His tongue shall not get around me," Maitre Menard promised. "The host
of the Three Lanterns was not born yesterday let me tell you."

With this comforting assurance I set out once more on my expedition
with, to tell truth, no very keen enthusiasm for the business. It was
all very well for M. Etienne to declare grandly that as recompense for
my trouble I should see Mlle. de Montluc. But I was not her lover and I
thought I could get along very comfortably without seeing her. I knew
not how to bear myself before a splendid young noblewoman. When I had
dashed across Paris to slay the traitor in the Rue Coupejarrets I had
not been afraid; but now, going with a love-message to a girl, I was
scared.

And there was more than the fear of her bright eyes to give me pause. I
was afraid of Mlle. de Montluc, but more afrai