gument that touched me nearly, and Roger, perceiving the
effect it produced, harped upon it so strongly that at last I agreed to
accompany him to his English home. There was, however, still my servant
to be considered, but Roger declared merrily there was plenty of room
for Jacques, who should be given the charge of the stables.

"And," added the generous fellow, "I shall be the gainer by that, for he
is a splendid judge of horses!" which was perfectly true.

I had a talk with Jacques the same evening and asked him to give me his
opinion freely on the subject. The honest fellow did not hesitate an
instant.

"Go with Monsieur Braund by all means," said he. "As long as the King of
Navarre remains a prisoner you can do nothing, but directly he is free
you will have a chance of settling accounts with this Cordel. To go to
the New World will be to acknowledge yourself beaten."

"You are right, Jacques," I said; "we will stay in England, and bide
our time."

"It will come, monsieur, be assured of that; and then let Etienne Cordel
look out for himself."

We were still talking about the lawyer when Roger came in, bringing a
note that had been left by a stranger at the _Hotel Coligny_. It was
addressed to me, and I recognized the handwriting immediately.

"'Tis from L'Estang," I said; "what can he have to say?"

"Open it and see," suggested Roger merrily, "that is the easiest way of
finding out!"

The contents were brief, but they made me bite my lips hard. "Cordel has
been granted the Le Blanc estates, and in all likelihood a patent of
nobility will be made out in a few weeks. His assassins are still
seeking for you."

"Well," said Roger, "as it happens, they will seek in vain, and when
they do find you, they may be sorry for the discovery."

Now that my decision was made, I felt anxious to get away, hoping that
new scenes and new faces might blunt the misery which L'Estang's letter
had caused me. Roger was also desirous to return immediately, and, as
there was a vessel timed to sail in a few days, he arranged that we
should take our passage in her.

It was a beautiful September morning when we went on board, and as the
ship moved slowly from the harbour I took a sad farewell of my fair but
unhappy country. Stronger men might have laughed at my weakness, but my
eyes were dim as, leaning over the vessel's side, I watched the receding
shore. Who could foretell if I should ever behold my own land again?

"Courage,