ot over my right--which is also no lie," he added under
his breath. "De Tournay's hair was brown, and mine, you see, is almost
a dead black--fever did that," he added under his breath. "De Tournay
escaped the day after the Battle of Jersey from the prison hospital, I
was left, and here I've been ever since--Yves Savary dit Detricand at
your service, chevalier."

A pained expression crossed over the Chevalier's face. "I am most sorry;
I am most sorry," he said hesitatingly. "I had no wish to wound your
feelings."

"Ah, it is de Tournay to whom you must apologise," said Detricand
musingly, with a droll look.

"It is a pity," continued the Chevalier, "for somehow all at once I
recalled a resemblance. I saw de Tournay when he was fourteen--yes, I
think it was fourteen--and when I looked at you, monsieur, his face came
back to me. It would have made my cousin so happy if you had been the
Comte de Tournay and I had found you here." The old man's voice trembled
a little. "We are growing fewer every day, we Frenchmen of the ancient
families. And it would have made my cousin so happy, as I was saying,
monsieur."

Detricand's manner changed; he became serious. The devil-may-care,
irresponsible shamelessness of his face dropped away like a mask.
Something had touched him. His voice changed too.

"De Tournay was a much better fellow than I am, chevalier," said
he--"and that's no lie," he added under his breath. "De Tournay was a
fiery, ambitious, youngster with bad companions. De Tournay told me
he repented of coming with Rullecour, and he felt he had spoilt his
life--that he could never return to France again or to his people."

The old Chevalier shook his head sadly. "Is he dead?" he asked.

There was a slight pause, and then Detricand answered: "No, still
living."

"Where is he?"

"I promised de Tournay that I would never reveal that."

"Might I not write to him?" asked the old man. "Assuredly, Chevalier."

"Could you--will you--despatch a letter to him from me, monsieur?"

"Upon my honour, yes."

"I thank you--I thank you, monsieur; I will write it to-day."

"As you will, Chevalier. I will ask you for the letter to-night,"
rejoined Detricand. "It may take time to reach de Tournay; but he shall
receive it into his own hands."

De Mauprat trembled to his feet to put the question he knew the
Chevalier dreaded to ask:

"Do you think that monsieur le comte will return to France?"

"I think he will," answered De