sword of Nevers, who was
thrusting wildly before him into the gloom, while he cried: "Not a word!
You have insulted a woman!"

Lagardere beat a rapid retreat for a few paces, and called to him: "I
apologize humbly, abjectly. I kneel for forgiveness."

Nevers's only answer was to follow up and thrust rapidly at Lagardere's
retreating figure, while he cried, fiercely: "Too late."

There was nothing for Lagardere to do but to defend himself in order to
gain time with this passionate madman. Therefore, Lagardere drew his
sword and parried the attack which Nevers was now making at close
quarters. It was so dark in the moat that the two antagonists could
scarcely see each other, and even the brightness of the blades was with
difficulty distinguished. In a voice that was at once anxious and
mocking, Lagardere cried to the duke: "Unnatural parent, do you wish to
kill your child?"

The last word stopped Nevers like a blow. He lowered his sword and spoke
wonderingly: "My child! What do you mean?"

Lagardere answered him, gravely: "At this moment Mademoiselle de Nevers
is nestled in my arms."

Nevers echoed him, astonished: "My daughter, in your arms?"

Lagardere came quite close to the duke and showed him the bundle cradled
in his elbow. "See for yourself; but step gently, for the young lady's
sleep must be respected."

Nevers gave a gasp of surprise. "What has happened?"

Lagardere answered him, slowly: "Madame de Nevers gave this little lady
to me just now from yonder window, taking me for you. There is a plot to
kill the child, to kill you."

Nevers gave a groan. "This is the hate of the Marquis de Caylus."

"I don't know who is doing the job," Lagardere answered, "but what I do
know is that the night is alive with assassins. I think I have got rid of
some of them, but there may be others, wherefore prudence advises us to
be off."

He could see Nevers stiffen himself in the darkness as he answered,
proudly: "A Nevers fly?"

Lagardere shrugged his shoulders. "Even I have no passion for flight, but
with a sweet young lady to defend--"

Nevers seemed to accept his correction. "You are right. Forgive me. Let
us go."

The two men turned to leave the moat, but as they did so they were
stopped by the sound of fresh footsteps on the bridge, and in another
instant Nevers's page had descended the steps and ran to join them.

"My lord!" he cried to the duke as soon as he reached the pair--"my lord,
my lord, you are s