rms. Methinks
that it were well for me to pass my dagger through his throat, for his
end is very near."

"Not for your life!" cried the leader. "If he die without wound, they
cannot lay it to our charge. Turn now to the other."

The man bent over De Catinat, and placed his hand upon his heart. As he
did so the soldier heaved a long sigh, opened his eyes, and gazed about
him with the face of one who knows neither where he is nor how he came
there. De Vivonne, who had drawn his hat down over his eyes, and
muffled the lower part of his face in his mantle, took out his flask,
and poured a little of the contents down the injured man's throat.
In an instant a dash of colour had come back into the guardsman's
bloodless cheeks, and the light of memory into his eyes. He struggled
up on to his feet, and strove furiously to push away those who held him.
But his head still swam, and he could scarce hold himself erect.

"I must to Paris!" he gasped; "I must to Paris! It is the king's
mission. You stop me at your peril!"

"He has no hurt save a scratch," said the ex-doctor.

"Then hold him fast. And first carry the dying man to the carriage."

The lantern threw but a small ring of yellow light, so that when it had
been carried over to De Catinat, Amos Green was left lying in the
shadow. Now they brought the light back to where the young man lay.
But there was no sign of him. He was gone.

For a moment the little group of ruffians stood staring, the light of
their lantern streaming up upon their plumed hats, their fierce eyes,
and savage faces. Then a burst of oaths broke from them, and De Vivonne
caught the false doctor by the throat, and hurling him down, would have
choked him upon the spot, had the others not dragged them apart.

"You lying dog!" he cried. "Is this your skill? The man has fled, and
we are ruined!"

"He has done it in his death-struggle," gasped the other hoarsely,
sitting up and rubbing his throat. "I tell you that he was
_in extremis_. He cannot be far off."

"That is true. He cannot be far off," cried De Vivonne. "He has
neither horse nor arms. You, Despard and Raymond de Carnac, guard the
other, that he play us no trick. Do you, Latour, and you, Turberville,
ride down the road, and wait by the south gate. If he enter Paris at
all, he must come in that way. If you get him, tie him before you on
your horse, and bring him to the rendezvous. In any case, it matters
little, for he i