ill be no duel at St. Germain this evening."

Scarce had the words fallen from my lips when I saw in the faces of
Montmedy and St. Auban and half a dozen others the evidence of their
rashness.

"So!" cried St. Auban in a voice that shook with rage. "That was your
object, eh? That you had fallen low, Master de Luynes, I knew, but I
dreamt not that in your fall you had come so low as this."

"You dare?"

"Pardieu! I dare more, Monsieur; I dare tell you--you, Gaston de Luynes,
spy and bravo of the Cardinal--that your object shall be defeated.
That, as God lives, this duel shall still be fought--by me instead of
Canaples."

"And I tell you, sir, that as God lives it shall not," I answered with a
vehemence not a whit less than his own. "To you and to what other fools
may think to follow in your footsteps, I say this: that not to-night
nor to-morrow nor the next day shall that duel be fought. Cowards and
poltroons you are, who seek to murder a beardless boy who has injured
none of you! But, by my soul! every man who sends a challenge to that
boy will I at once seek out and deal with as I have dealt with Eugene de
Canaples. Let those who are eager to try another world make the attempt.
Adieu, Messieurs!"

And with a flourish of my sodden beaver, I turned and left them before
they had recovered from the vehemence of my words.

CHAPTER IV. FAIR RESCUERS

Like the calm of the heavens when pregnant with thunder was the calm of
that crowd. And as brief it was; for scarce had I taken a dozen steps
when my ears were assailed by a rumble of angry voices and a rush of
feet. One glance over my shoulder, one second's hesitation whether I
should stay and beard them, then the thought of Andrea de Mancini and of
what would befall him did this canaille vent its wrath upon me decided
my course and sent me hotfoot down the Rue Monarque. Howling and
bellowing that rabble followed in my wake, stumbling over one another in
their indecent haste to reach me.

But I was fleet of foot, and behind me there was that that would lend
wings to the most deliberate, so that when I turned into the open space
before the Hotel Vendome I had set a good fifty yards betwixt myself and
the foremost of my hunters.

A coach was passing at that moment. I shouted, and the knave who drove
glanced at me, then up the Rue Monarque at my pursuers, whereupon,
shaking his head, he would have left me to my fate. But I was of another
mind. I dashed towards