urpose;
and my surprise was great when, about a week later, the younger St.
Germain burst in upon me one morning, with his face inflamed with anger
and his dress in disorder; and proclaimed, before I could rise or
speak, that St. Mesmin had been murdered.

"How?" I said, somewhat startled. "And when?"

"By M. de Saintonge! Last night!" he answered furiously. "But I will
have justice; I will have justice, M. de Rosny, or the King--"

I checked him as sternly as my surprise would let me; and when I had a
little abashed him--which was not easy, for his temper vied in
stubbornness with St. Mesmin's--I learned the particulars. About ten
o'clock on the previous night St. Mesmin had received a note, and, in
spite of the remonstrances of his servants, had gone out alone. He had
not returned nor been seen since, and his friends feared the worst.

"But on what grounds?" I said, astonished to find that that was all.

"What!" St. Germain cried, flaring up again. "Do you ask on what
grounds? When M. de Saintonge has told a hundred what he would do to
him! What he would do--do, I say? What he has done!"

"Pooh!" I said. "It is some assignation, and the rogue is late in
returning."

"An assignation, yes," St. Germain retorted; "but one from which he
will not return."

"Well, if he does not, go to the Chevalier du Guet," I answered, waving
him off. "Go! do you hear? I am busy," I continued. "Do you think
that I am keeper of all the young sparks that bay the moon under the
citizens' windows? Be off, sir!"

He went reluctantly, muttering vengeance; and I, after rating Maignan
soundly for admitting him, returned to my work, supposing that before
night I should hear of St. Mesmin's safety. But the matter took
another turn, for while I was at dinner the Captain of the Watch came
to speak to me. St. Mesmin's cap had been found in a bye-street near
the river, in a place where there were marks of a struggle; and his
friends were furious. High words had already passed between the two
factions, St. Germain openly accusing Saintonge of the murder; plainly,
unless something were done at once, a bloody fray was imminent.

"What do you think yourself, M. le Marchand?" I said, when I had heard
him out.

He shrugged his shoulders. "What can I think, your Excellency?" he
said. "What else was to be expected?"

"You take it for granted that M. de Saintonge is guilty?"

"The young man is gone," he answered pithily.