h to
Brittany."

"I have ten golden angels which the prior of the convent gave me at
my departure," said Laurence, with some pride.

His companion nodded approvingly.

"So much will see us through--that is, with care. Give them here to
me," he added after a moment's thought; "I will pay them out with more
economy, being of the country through which we pass."

But Laurence, though sufficiently headlong and reckless, had not been
born a Scot for naught.

"Wait till there is necessity," he replied cautiously, "and the angels
shall not be lacking. Till then they are quite safe with me. For
security I carry them in a secret place ill to be gotten at hastily."

Gilles de Sille turned away with some movement of impatience, yet
without saying another word upon the subject.

"To the stables," he said; then turning to the concierge he added, "I
suppose we can have horses to ride after my lord?"

"So far as I am concerned," growled Labord, "you can have all the
horses you want--and break your necks off each one of them if you
will. It will save some good hemp and hangman's hire. Such devil's
dogs as you two be bear your dooms ready written on your faces."

And this saying nettled our Laurence, who prided himself no little on
an allure blonde and gallant.

But Gilles de Sille cared no whit for the servitor's sneers, so long
as they got horses between their knees and escaped out of Paris that
night. In an hour they were ready to start, and Laurence had expended
one of his gold angels on the provend for the journey, which his
companion and he stored in their saddle-bags.

And in this manner, like an idle lad who for mischief puts body and soul
in peril, went forth Laurence MacKim to take up service with the
redoubtable Messire Gilles de Laval, Sieur de Retz, High Chamberlain of
Charles the Seventh, Marshal of France, and lately companion-in-arms of
the martyred Maid of Orleans.

Now, before he went forth from the street of the Ursulines, he had
laid a sealed letter on the bed of his brother, which ran thus: "Ha,
Sir Sholto MacKim, while you stand about in the rain and shiver under
your cloak, I am off to find out the mystery. When I have done all
without assistance from the wise Sir Sholto, I will return. But not
before. Fare your knightship well."

Laurence and Gilles de Sille rode out of Paris by the Versailles road,
and the latter insisted on silence till they had passed the forest of
St. Cyr, which was at that ti