ested that I had not met her, "You
would not have a lady go by way of the public room, would you?" he
demanded insolently. "She left by the side door into the courtyard."

"That being so, Monsieur le Comte," said I quietly, "I will have a
little talk with you before going after her." And I carefully closed the
door.

CHAPTER XV. MONSIEUR DE CHATELLERAULT IS ANGRY

Within the room Chatellerault and I faced each other in silence. And how
vastly changed were the circumstances since our last meeting!

The disorder that had stamped itself upon his countenance when first he
had beheld me still prevailed. There was a lowering, sullen look in his
eyes and a certain displacement of their symmetry which was peculiar to
them when troubled.

Although a cunning plotter and a scheming intriguer in his own
interests, Chatellerault, as I have said before, was not by nature a
quick man. His wits worked slowly, and he needed leisure to consider
a situation and his actions therein ere he was in a position to engage
with it.

"Monsieur le Comte," quoth I ironically, "I make you my compliments upon
your astuteness and the depth of your schemes, and my condolences upon
the little accident owing to which I am here, and in consequence of
which your pretty plans are likely to miscarry."

He threw back his great head like a horse that feels the curb, and
his smouldering eyes looked up at me balefully. Then his sensuous lips
parted in scorn.

"How much do you know?" he demanded with sullen contempt.

"I have been in that room for the half of an hour," I answered, rapping
the partition with my knuckles.

"The dividing wall, as you will observe, is thin, and I heard everything
that passed between you and Mademoiselle de Lavedan."

"So that Bardelys, known as the Magnificent; Bardelys the mirror of
chivalry; Bardelys the arbiter elegantiarum of the Court of France, is
no better, it seems, than a vulgar spy."

If he sought by that word to anger me, he failed.

"Lord Count," I answered him very quietly, "you are of an age to know
that the truth alone has power to wound. I was in that room by accident,
and when the first words of your conversation reached me I had not been
human had I not remained and strained my ears to catch every syllable
you uttered. For the rest, let me ask you, my dear Chatellerault, since
when have you become so nice that you dare cast it at a man that he has
been eavesdropping?"

"You are obscure, mons