own free will."

"I see, you hope not to have long to wait for the end."

"I hope not; but meantime a premature disclosure would do me as much
harm as you. I have not the slightest rancour against you, commander;
you have robbed me of no treasure; I have therefore no compensation to
demand. What you place such value on would be only a burden to me, as
it will be to you later on. All I want is, to know as soon as it is no
longer in your possession, whether it has been removed by the will of
God or by your own, I am right in thinking that to-day there is some
hope of the chevalier's recovery, am I not?"

"Yes, Sir,"

"Do you give me your promise that if ever he leave this house safe and
sound you will let me know?"

"I give you my promise,"

"And if the result should be different, you will also send me word?"

"Certainly. But to whom shall I address my message?"

"I should have thought that since our first meeting you would have found
out all about me, and that to tell you my name would be superfluous. But
I have no reason to hide it: Maitre Quennebert, notary, Saint-Denis. I
will not detain you any longer now, commander; excuse a simple citizen
for dictating conditions to a noble such as you. For once chance has
been on my side although a score of times it has gone against me."

De Jars made no reply except a nod, and walked away quickly, muttering
words of suppressed anger between his teeth at all the--humiliations to
which he had been obliged to submit so meekly.

"He's as insolent as a varlet who has no fear of a larruping before his
eyes: how the rapscallion gloried in taking advantage of his position!
Taking-off his hat while putting his foot on my neck! If ever I can be
even with you, my worthy scrivener, you'll pass a very bad quarter of an
hour, I can tell you."

Everyone has his own idea of what constitutes perfect honour. De Jars,
for instance, would have allowed himself to be cut up into little pieces
rather than have broken the promise he had given Quennebert a week
ago, because it was given in exchange for his life, and the slightest
paltering with his word under those circumstances would have been
dastardly. But the engagement into which he had just entered had in his
eyes no such moral sanction; he had not been forced into it by threats,
he had escaped by its means no serious danger, and therefore in regard
to it his conscience was much more accommodating. What he should best
have liked to do,