ies at Court,' Rosny continued, calmly overlooking my
ill-humour, 'trust D'Aumont and Biron and the French clique. They are
true to France at any rate. But whomsoever you see consort with the two
Retzs--the King of Spain's jackals as men name them--avoid him for a
Spaniard and a traitor.'

'But the Retzs are Italians,' I objected peevishly.

'The same thing,' he answered curtly. 'They cry, "Vive le Roi!" but
privately they are for the League, or for Spain, or for whatever may
most hurt us; who are better Frenchmen than themselves, and whose leader
will some day, if God spare his life, be King of France.'

'Well, the less I have to do with the one or the other of them, save at
the sword's point, the better I shall be pleased,' I rejoined.

On that he looked at me with a queer smile; as was his way when he had
more in his mind than appeared. And this, and something special in the
tone of his conversation, as well, perhaps, as my own doubts about my
future and his intentions regarding me, gave me an uneasy feeling;
which lasted through the day, and left me only when more immediate peril
presently rose to threaten us.

It happened in this way. We had reached the outskirts of Blois, and were
just approaching the gate, hoping to pass through it without attracting
attention, when two travellers rode slowly out of a lane, the mouth of
which we were passing. They eyed us closely as they reined in to let
us go by; and M. de Rosny, who was riding with his horse's head at my
stirrup, whispered me to press on. Before I could comply, however, the
strangers cantered by us, and turning in the saddle when abreast of us
looked us in the face. A moment later one of them cried loudly, 'It is
he!' and both pulled their horses across the road, and waited for us to
come up.

Aware that if M. de Rosny were discovered he would be happy if he
escaped with imprisonment, the king being too jealous of his Catholic
reputation to venture to protect a Huguenot, however illustrious, I saw
that the situation was desperate; for, though we were five to two,
the neighbourhood of the city--the gate being scarcely a bow-shot
off--rendered flight or resistance equally hopeless. I could think of
nothing for it save to put a bold face on the matter, and, M. de Rosny
doing the same, we advanced in the most innocent way possible.

'Halt, there!' cried one of the strangers sharply. 'And let me tell you,
sir, you are known.'

'What if I am?' I answered imp