r hand over my mouth. A line
of light showed through the crack. She had not quite closed the door on
account of the noise of the latch. She tried again; again it rattled and
she desisted. I heard her fluttered breathing and I heard something
else--a rapid, heavy tread in the corridor without. Into the
council-room came a man carrying a lighted taper. It was Mayenne.

Mademoiselle, with a whispered "God save us!" sank in a heap at my feet.

I bent over her to find if she had swooned, when she seized my hand in a
sharp grip that told me plain as words to be quiet.

Mayenne was yawning; he had a rumpled and dishevelled look like one just
roused from sleep. He crossed over to the table, lighted the
three-branched candlestick standing there, and seated himself with his
back to us, pulling about some papers. I hardly dared glance at him,
for fear my eyes should draw his; the crack of our door seemed to call
aloud to him to mark it; but the candle-light scarcely pierced the
shadows of the long room.

More quick footsteps in the corridor. Mayenne hitched his chair about,
sidewise to the table and to us, facing the outer door. A tall man in
black entered, saluting the general from the threshold.

"So you have come back?" spoke the duke in his even tones. It was
impossible to tell whether the words were a welcome or a sentence.

"Yes," answered the other, in a voice as noncommittal as Mayenne's own.
He shut the door after him and walked over to the table.

"And how goes it?"

"Badly."

The newcomer threw his hat aside and sat down without waiting for an
invitation.

"What! Badly, sirrah!" Mayenne exclaimed sharply. "You come to me with
that report?"

"I do, monsieur," answered the other with cool insolence, leaning back
in his chair. The light fell directly on his face and proved to me what
I had guessed at his first word. The duke's night visitor was Lucas.
"Yes," he repeated indifferently, "it has gone badly. In fact, your game
is up."

Mayenne jumped to his feet, bringing his fist down on the table.

"You tell me this?"

Lucas regarded him with an easy smile.

"Unfortunately, monsieur, I do."

[Illustration: MLLE. De MONTLUC AND FELIX BROUX IN THE ORATORY]

Mayenne turned on him, cursing. Lucas with the quickness of a cat
sprang a yard aside, dagger unsheathed.

"Put up that knife!" shouted Mayenne.

"When you put up yours, monsieur."

"I have drawn none!"

"In your sleeve, monsieur."

"Liar!" cri