aving Cocardasse and Passepoil staring at each other in staggered
amazement.

"The devil!" said Cocardasse.

"That's what I'm thinking," said Passepoil.

Cocardasse groaned. "What will Lagardere say?"

"Well, we did our best," Passepoil sighed.

Cocardasse groaned again. "What's the good, if we didn't do what he
wanted?"

"Where shall we find him?" asked Passepoil.

Cocardasse consulted the watch which he owed to the bounty of the Prince
de Gonzague. "He will be here at midnight. It is nearly that now. Come,
man, come." And the baffled, bewildered, angry pair plunged despairingly
into the thickness of the crowd about them, hoping against hope to find
their lost charge for the moment when Lagardere was to make his
appearance.

XXV

THE GLOVE OF COCARDASSE

For a little longer the noise and revelry continued, until the moment
came when the king's hospitality, offering supper to his wearied guests,
emptied the gardens of many of their frequenters. Inside his tent the
sovereign was supping with his friends. By his side sat the Princess de
Gonzague, who neither ate nor drank, but waited with an aching heart for
midnight. At a quarter to twelve Bonnivet entered the tent and advanced
towards the king.

"Sire," he said, "there is a gentleman here who insists on immediate
speech with you. He says you have appointed this time and place to meet
him."

Louis turned to the Princess de Gonzague, whose pale face had suddenly
flushed. "It is he," he said; and then turned to Bonnivet. "Introduce the
gentleman."

Bonnivet went to the entrance of the tent, and a moment later Lagardere
entered. He was wearing his old white coat of the Royal Light-Horse, and
he advanced composedly, with head erect, towards the king.

"I am here," he said, as he saluted the duke, and all present gazed on
him with curiosity. Only three knew who he was or why he was there.

Gonzague muttered to himself: "Now for the death-struggle."

The king looked at his visitor. "Who are you?" he asked.

And Lagardere answered: "I am Henri de Lagardere."

At that moment Peyrolles, privileged as his master's henchman, entered
the tent and made his way to Gonzague's side. "All is well," he
whispered. "We have got the girl, and the papers are upon her."

The king was addressing Lagardere. "You are here at our pleasure--free to
come, free to go, free to speak."

Lagardere answered, firmly: "I mean to speak."

The princess turned to him. "Will