laimed Felix, with
rather more heat than was necessary.

"Jacques is a brave fellow," agreed Roger, "but he is only one man.
Edmond, with your leave, I will set out after the travellers, and assist
Jacques in guarding your sister."

"You will have but a short stay in Paris," remarked Felix.

"I shall return quickly to offer my sword to your chief. From Edmond's
story, I fancy he will have need of all his friends. I left my horse at
an inn; it is a fine beast, and is thoroughly rested now. I will start
immediately. No, I am not hungry; I have made a substantial meal. I
shall come straight here on my return. Good-bye to you both. Directly I
have placed Mademoiselle Jeanne in safety you will see me again?"

We had scarcely time to answer before he had gone, and from the window I
saw him speeding along the street as if he feared the loss of a single
second would overthrow all his plans.

CHAPTER XXV

A Dastardly Deed

In the evening of that same day, the Admiral in passing to his room
inquired kindly if I had executed his commission, and appeared pleased
to learn that my sister had already started on her journey.

"I do not think it was necessary," he remarked, "but at least no harm
can come from it, and you will feel easier in your mind. Good-night,
gentlemen; our plans are progressing favourably, and I hope soon to have
good news for you all."

I went to bed early that night, for Felix, unlike his usual bright self,
was very gloomy and morose. I fancy he was not well pleased with the
coming of Roger Braund, and still less so with his ready offer to escort
Jeanne to Rochelle.

"What is the fellow doing here at all?" he asked. "Why can he not stay
in his own country?"

I ventured to suggest that no one put the question at Jarnac, or at
Montcontour, and that we of the Religion at least owed a great debt of
gratitude to Roger and his brave comrades. Felix seemed rather to resent
this remark, so I said no more, trusting that by another day he would
have recovered his good humour and pleasant manners.

I remember well how that memorable day began. It was Friday, August 22,
and as I wakened from a long sleep the cheery rays of the morning sun
flooded the room. How little any of us in the _Hotel Coligny_ dreamed of
what was to happen before that same sun sank to rest!

After breakfast, Des Pruneaux drew me on one side. "The Admiral proceeds
to the Louvre this morning," he said. "De Guerchy and I attend him