elys in Picardy."

A cunning grin parted his thin lips.

"Have you any witnesses to identify you?"

"Hundreds, monsieur!" I answered eagerly, seeing salvation already
within my grasp.

"Name some of them."

"I will name one--one whose word you will not dare to doubt."

"That is?"

"His Majesty the King. I am told that he is on his way to Toulouse, and
I but ask, messieurs, that you await his arrival before going further
with my trial."

"Is there no other witness of whom you can think, monsieur? Some witness
that might be produced more readily. For if you can, indeed, establish
the identity you claim, why should you languish in prison for some
weeks?"

His voice was soft and oily. The anger had all departed out of it, which
I--like a fool--imagined to be due to my mention of the King.

"My friends, Monsieur le Garde des Sceaux, are all either in Paris or in
His Majesty's train, and so not likely to be here before him. There
is my intendant, Rodenard, and there are my servants--some twenty
of them--who may perhaps be still in Languedoc, and for whom I would
entreat you to seek. Them you might succeed in finding within a few days
if they have not yet determined to return to Paris in the belief that I
am dead."

He stroked his chin meditatively, his eyes raised to the sunlit dome of
glass overhead.

"Ah-h!" he gasped. It was a long-drawn sigh of regret, of conclusion, or
of weary impatience. "There is no one in Toulouse who will swear to your
identity monsieur?" he asked.

"I am afraid there is not," I replied. "I know of no one."

As I uttered those words the President's countenance changed as abruptly
as if he had flung off a mask. From soft and cat-like that he had been
during the past few moments, he grew of a sudden savage as a tiger. He
leapt to his feet, his face crimson, his eyes seeming to blaze, and
the words he spoke came now in a hot, confused, and almost incoherent
torrent.

"Miserable!" he roared, "out of your own mouth have you convicted
yourself. And to think that you should have stood there and wasted the
time of this Court--His Majesty's time--with your damnable falsehoods!
What purpose did you think to serve by delaying your doom? Did you
imagine that haply, whilst we sent to Paris for your witnesses, the
King might grow weary of justice, and in some fit of clemency announce a
general pardon? Such things have been known, and it may be that in your
cunning you played for such a gain b