had gone astray a precious quarter of an hour was wasted, and
the sun already hung, a dull red globe, on the brink of the horizon.

Clenching my teeth, I tore at my horse's flanks, and with a bloody heel
I drove the maddened brute along at a pace that might have cost us both
dearly. I dashed, at last, into the quadrangle, and, throwing the reins
to a gaping groom, I sprang up the steps.

"Has the Chevalier returned?" I gasped breathlessly.

"Not yet, Monsieur," answered Guilbert with a tranquillity that made me
desire to strangle him. "Is Mademoiselle in the chateau?" was my next
question, mechanically asked.

"I saw her on the terrace some moments ago. She has not since come
within."

Like one possessed I flew across the intervening room and out on to the
terrace. Genevieve and Andrea were walking there, deep in conversation.
At another time I might have cursed their lack of prudence. At the
moment I did not so much as remark it.

"Where is Mademoiselle de Canaples?" I burst out.

They gazed at me, as much astounded by my question and the abruptness of
it as by my apparent agitation.

"Has anything happened?" inquired Genevieve, her blue eyes wide open.

"Yes--no; naught has happened. Tell me where she is. I must speak to
her."

"She was here a while ago," said Andrea, "but she left us to stroll
along the river bank."

"How long is it since she left you?"

"A quarter of an hour, perhaps."

"Something has happened!" cried Genevieve, and added more, maybe, but I
waited not to hear.

Muttering curses as I ran--for 't was my way to curse where pious souls
might pray--I sped back to the quadrangle and my horse.

"Follow me," I shouted to the groom, "you and as many of your fellows
as you can find. Follow me at once--at once, mark you--to the coppice
by the river." And without waiting for his answer, I sent my horse
thundering down the avenue. The sun was gone, leaving naught but a
roseate streak to tell of its passage, and at that moment a distant bell
tinkled forth the Angelus.

With whip, spur, and imprecations I plied my steed, a prey to such
excitement as I had never known until that moment--not even in the
carnage of battle.

I had no plan. My mind was a chaos of thought without a single
clear idea to light it, and I never so much as bethought me that
single-handled I was about to attempt to wrest Yvonne from the hands of
perchance half a dozen men. To save time I did not far pursue the road,
bu