that befell in the council-room. I wound up with a
second full account of our capture under the very walls of the house,
our garroting before we could cry on the guards to save us. Vigo said
nothing for some time; at length he delivered himself:

"Monsieur wouldn't have a patrol about the house. He wouldn't publish to
the mob that he feared any danger whatever. Of course no one foresaw
this. However, the arrest is the best thing could have happened."

"Vigo!" I gasped in horror. Was Vigo turned traitor? The solid earth
reeled beneath my feet.

"He'd never rest till he got himself killed," Vigo went on. "Monsieur's
hot enough, but M. Etienne's mad to bind. If they hadn't caught him
to-night he'd have been in some worse pickle to-morrow; while, as it is,
he's safe from swords at least."

"But they can murder as well in the Bastille as elsewhere!" I cried.

Vigo shook his head.

"No; had they meant murder, they'd have settled him here in the alley.
Since they lugged him off unhurt, they don't mean it. I know not what
the devil they are up to, but it isn't that."

"It was Lucas's game in the first place," I repeated. "He's too prudent
to come out in the open and fight M. Etienne. He never strikes with his
own hand; his way is to make some one else strike for him. So he gets M.
Etienne into the Bastille. That's the first step. I suppose he thinks
Mayenne will attend to the second."

"Mayenne dares not take the boy's life," Vigo answered. "He could have
killed him, an he chose, in the streets, and nobody the wiser. But now
that monsieur's taken publicly to the Bastille, Mayenne dares not kill
him there, by foul play or by law--the Duke of St. Quentin's son. No;
all Mayenne can do is to confine him at his good pleasure. Whence
presently we will pluck him out at King Henry's good pleasure."

"And meantime is he to rot behind bars?"

"Unless Monsieur can get him out. But then," Vigo went on, "a month or
two in a cell won't be a bad thing for him, neither. His head will have
a chance to cool. After a dose of Mayenne's purge he may recover of his
fever for Mayenne's ward."

"Monsieur! You will send to Monsieur?"

"Of course. You will go. And Gilles with you to keep you out of
mischief."

"When? Now?"

"No," said Vigo. "You will go clothe yourself in breeches first, else
are you not likely to arrive anywhere but at the mad-house. And then eat
your supper. It's a long road to St. Denis."

I ran at once, through a