"I was paid to ride fast!" he answered surlily; "my employer feared you
would have started."

"Started!" I echoed unsurprised, "whither?"

"He did not confide in me," the fellow replied, "and I didn't ask;
'twould have been no use. My orders were to ride for my life, to give
you a letter, and afterwards to guide you to a certain place mentioned
in the note."

"And who is your employer?"

"I had no orders to tell that; I expect he has written it down here,"
and the fellow handed me a sealed packet.

As he raised his arm I noticed a hole, apparently made by a bullet,
through his cloak.

"What is the meaning of that?" I asked.

"It means," said he grimly, "that had I not received orders to make no
delay on my journey, there would have been one rogue less in your part
of the world, monsieur."

"You have been attacked on the road?" I said, with a swift glance at
Jacques.

"The bullet went a trifle wide," he answered shortly, "but it came close
enough for my comfort."

"Well," exclaimed Jacques, "a miss is as good as a mile. Come and have
some breakfast, while monsieur reads his letter. Both you and the animal
need food and rest."

Leaving my servant and the messenger together, I returned to my own
room, and opened the packet. As I more than half expected, the letter
was signed "D'Angely." It was very short, but it answered one of the
questions I had been asking myself.

"Since sending my first messenger," it ran, "Monseigneur's business
calls me immediately to Poictiers; so I must meet you there instead.
Start at once; you can trust the bearer."

Directly Jacques was at liberty he joined me, and I handed him the
letter without comment.

"That clears up one point of the mystery," said he. "It is plain the
lawyer knows he has this L'Estang to fight against; but 'tis a pity your
friend does not give a hint of what is in progress. He might, for
instance, have sent a description of Cordel's tools."

"Very probably he did. You forget that this letter only supplements the
first one."

"Yes," said Jacques, adding, "will you go to Poictiers, monsieur?"

"I must. L'Estang may have something of importance to tell me."

"He could have written it," said Jacques. "I don't like this journey.
These assassins are on the watch. One messenger killed, and the next
shot at--we can be sure they won't let you pass free."

"There are three of us," I replied lightly--"you and I and L'Estang's
courier, and he seems well able