ly.

I caught myself suddenly pitying the two of them: Mayenne, because, for
all his power and splendour and rank next to a king's and ability second
to none, he dared trust no man--not the son of his body, not his
brother. He had made his own hell and dwelt in it, and there was no need
to wish him any ill. And Lucas, perjured traitor, was farther from the
goal of his desire than if we had slain him in the Rue Coupejarrets.

"What next? It appears you escaped the redoubted Vigo," Mayenne went on
in his every-day tone; and the vision faded, and I saw him once more as
the greatest noble and greatest scoundrel in France, and feared and
hated him, and Lucas too, as the betrayer of my dear lord Etienne.

"Trust me for that."

"Then came you here?"

"Not at once. I tracked Mar and this Broux to Mar's old lodgings at the
Three Lanterns. When I had dogged them to the door I came here and
worked upon Lorance to write Mar a letter commanding his presence. For I
thought that the night was yet young and to-morrow he might be out of my
reach. Well, it appears he had not the courage to come but he sent the
boy. I was not sorry. I thought I could settle him more quietly at the
inn. The boy went back once and almost ran into me in the court, but he
did not see me. I entered and asked for lodgings; but the fat old fool
of a host put me through the catechism like an inquisitor, and finally
declared the inn was full. I said I would take a garret; but it was no
use. Out I must trudge. I did, and paid two men to get into a brawl in
front of the house, that the inn people might run out to look. But
instead they locked the gate and put up the shutters in the cabaret."

Mayenne burst out laughing.

"It was not your night, Paul."

"No," said Lucas, shortly.

"And what then? It did not take you till three o'clock to be put out of
the inn."

"No," Lucas answered; "I spoke to you of the varlet Pontou with whom
Grammont had quarrelled. He had shut him up in a closet of the house in
the Rue Coupejarrets. After the fight in the court we all went our ways,
forgetting him. So I paid the house a visit; I was afraid some one else
might find him and he might tell tales."

"And will he tell tales?"

"No," said Lucas, "he will tell no tales."

"How about your spy in the Hotel St. Quentin?"

"Martin, the clerk? Oh, I warned him off before I left," Lucas said
easily. "He will lie perdu till we want him again. And Grammont, you
see, is dead t