ter are the more
important. You, better than I, M. de Montsoreau, know that the King in
the Gallery at the Louvre is one, and in his closet is another."

"Yes."

"And that being so--"

"You do not mean to carry the letters into effect?"

"Had I the letters, certainly, my friend. I should be bound by them. But
I took good care to lose them," Tavannes added naively. "I am no fool."

"Umph!"

"However," Count Hannibal continued, with an airy gesture, "that is my
affair. If you, M. de Montsoreau, feel inclined, in spite of the absence
of my letters, to carry yours into effect, by all means do so--after
midnight of to-day."

M. de Montsoreau breathed hard. "And why," he asked, half sulkily and
half ponderously, "after midnight only, M. le Comte?"

"Merely that I may be clear of all suspicion of having lot or part in the
matter," Count Hannibal answered pleasantly. "After midnight of to-night
by all means do as you please. Until midnight, by your leave, we will be
quiet."

The Lieutenant-Governor moved doubtfully in his chair, the fear--which
Tavannes had shrewdly instilled into his mind--that he might be disowned
if he carried out his instructions, struggling with his avarice and his
self-importance. He was rather crafty than bold; and such things had
been, he knew. Little by little, and while he sat gloomily debating, the
notion of dealing with one or two and holding the body of the Huguenots
to ransom--a notion which, in spite of everything, was to bear good fruit
for Angers--began to form in his mind. The plan suited him: it left him
free to face either way, and it would fill his pockets more genteelly
than would open robbery. On the other hand, he would offend his brother
and the fanatical party, with whom he commonly acted. They were looking
to see him assert himself. They were looking to hear him declare
himself. And--

Harshly Count Hannibal's voice broke in on his thoughts; harshly, a
something sinister in its tone.

"Where is your brother?" he said. And it was evident that he had not
noted his absence until then. "My lord's Vicar of all people should be
here!" he continued, leaning forward and looking round the table. His
brow was stormy.

Lescot squirmed under his eye; Thuriot turned pale and trembled. It was
one of the canons of St.-Maurice, who at length took on himself to
answer.

"His lordship requested, M. le Comte," he ventured, "that you would
excuse him. His duties--"