abutting on the ruined Tour de Billy. Here, in an upper floor,
the Governor of the Arsenal had established his temporary lodging.

The chamber into which the stranger was introduced betrayed the haste in
which it had been prepared for its occupant. Two silver lamps which hung
from the beams of the unceiled roof shed light on a medley of arms and
inlaid armour, of parchments, books and steel caskets, which encumbered
not the tables only, but the stools and chests that, after the fashion of
that day, stood formally along the arras. In the midst of the disorder,
on the bare floor, walked the man who, more than any other, had been
instrumental in drawing the Huguenots to Paris--and to their doom. It
was no marvel that the events of the day, the surprise and horror, still
rode his mind; nor wonderful that even he, who passed for a model of
stiffness and reticence, betrayed for once the indignation which filled
his breast. Until the officer had withdrawn and closed the door he did,
indeed, keep silence; standing beside the table and eyeing his visitor
with a lofty porte and a stern glance. But the moment he was assured
that they were alone he spoke.

"Your Highness may unmask now," he said, making no effort to hide his
contempt. "Yet were you well advised to take the precaution, since you
had hardly come at me in safety without it. Had those who keep the gate
seen you, I would not have answered for your Highness's life. The more
shame," he continued vehemently, "on the deeds of this day which have
compelled the brother of a king of France to hide his face in his own
capital and in his own fortress. For I dare to say, Monsieur, what no
other will say, now the Admiral is dead. You have brought back the days
of the Armagnacs. You have brought bloody days and an evil name on
France, and I pray God that you may not pay in your turn what you have
exacted. But if you continue to be advised by M. de Guise, this I will
say, Monsieur"--and his voice fell low and stern. "Burgundy slew
Orleans, indeed; but he came in his turn to the Bridge of Montereau."

"You take me for Monsieur?" the unknown asked. And it was plain that he
smiled under his mask.

Biron's face altered. "I take you," he answered sharply, "for him whose
sign you sent me."

"The wisest are sometimes astray," the other answered with a low laugh.
And he took off his mask.

The Grand Master started back, his eyes sparkling with anger.

"M. de Tavannes