ubt about that was lest the
skulking Lucas should not prove good sword enough to give trouble to M.
Gervais. It was very far from my wish that he should come out of the
attempt unscathed.

But as I went along and had more time to ponder the matter, other doubts
forced themselves into my reluctant mind. Put it as I pleased, the
affair smacked too much of secrecy to be quite savoury. It was curious,
to say the least, that an honest encounter should require so much
plotting. Also, Lucas, coward and rascal though he might be, was
Monsieur's man, doing Monsieur's errand, and for me to mix myself up in
a plot against him was scarcely in keeping with my vaunted loyalty to
the house of St. Quentin. My friend Gervais's quarrel might be just;
his manner of procedure, even, might be just, and yet I have no right to
take part in it.

And yet Monsieur had signified plainly enough that he was no longer my
patron. For my birth's sake I might never work against him, but I was
free to do whatever else I chose. Monsieur himself had made it necessary
for me to take another master, and assuredly I owed something to
Yeux-gris. I had reason to feel confidence in his honour; surely I might
reckon that he would not be in the affair unless it were honest. Lucas
was like enough a scoundrel of whom Monsieur would be well rid. And
lastly and finally and above all, I was sworn, so there was no use
worrying about it. I had taken oath, and could not draw back.

I hurried along to the rendezvous, only pausing one moment at the
street-corner to buy sausages hot from the brazier, which I crammed into
my mouth as I ran. But after all was there no need of haste; the little
arch, when I panted up to it, was all deserted.

No better place for a tryst could have been found in the heart of busy
Paris. Only the one door opened into the alley; M. de Portreuse's high
garden wall, forming the other side of the passage, was unbroken by a
gate, and no curious eyes from the house could look into the deep arch
and see the narrow nail-studded door at the back where I awaited the
rat-faced Martin.

I stood there long, first on one foot and then on the other, fearful
every moment lest some one of Monsieur's true men should come along to
demand my business. No one appeared, either foe or friend, for so long
that I began to think Yeux-gris had tricked me and sent me here on a
fool's errand, when, all at once, a low voice said close to my ear:

"What seek you here?"