mselves without much raillery or laughter; I knew they
discussed the unhappy plight of the heir of St. Quentin. The chimes had
rung some time ago the half-hour after nine, and I was fidgeting to be
off, but huffed as I was with him, I could not lower myself to go ask
Vigo's leave to start. He might come after me when he wanted me.

"Felix! Felix!" Marcel shouted down the corridor. I sprang up; then,
remembering my dignity, moved no further, but bade him come in to me.

"Where are you mooning in the dark?" he demanded, stumbling over the
threshold. "Oh, there you are. Dame! you'd come down-stairs mighty quick
if you knew what was there for you?"

"What?" I cried, divided between the wild hope that it was Monsieur and
the wilder one that it was M. Etienne.

"Don't you wish I'd tell you? Well, you're a good boy, and I will. It's
the prettiest lass I've seen in a month of Sundays--you in your
petticoats don't come near her."

"For me?" I stuttered.

"Aye; she asked for M. le Duc, and when he wasn't here, for you. I
suppose it's some friend of M. Etienne's."

I supposed so, indeed; I supposed it was the owner of my borrowed
plumage come to claim her own, angry perhaps because I had not returned
it to her. I wondered whether she would scratch my eyes out because I
had lost the cap--whether I could find it if I went to look with a
light. None too eagerly I descended to her.

She was standing against the wall in the archway. Two or three of the
guardsmen were about her, one with a flambeau, by which they were all
surveying her. She wore the coif and blouse, the black bodice and short
striped skirt, of the country peasant girl, and, like a country girl,
she showed a face flushed and downcast under the soldiers' bold
scrutiny. She looked up at me as at a rescuing angel. It was Mlle. de
Montluc!

I dashed past the torch-bearer, nearly upsetting him in my haste, and
snatched her hand.

"Mademoiselle! Come into the house!"

She clutched me with fingers as cold as marble, which trembled on mine.

"Where is M. de St. Quentin?"

"At St. Denis."

"You must take me there to-night."

"I was going," I stammered, bewildered; "but you, mademoiselle--"

"You knew of M. de Mar's arrest?"

"Aye."

"What coil is this, Felix?" demanded Vigo, coming up. He took the torch
from his man, and held it in mademoiselle's face, whereupon an amazing
change came over his own. He lowered the light, shielding it with his
hand, as if it