that I had not seen him. He has killed my friend
Raoul, deprived his majesty of a staunch adherent, and has got
himself into trouble. But for all that, I am assured, by his
conduct and bearing in this business, that he is an honourable
gentleman; and I intreat you, as a personal favour, count, that you
allow him to go free."

"I would do much to oblige you, Monsieur D'Estanges; but he is an
Englishman and a Protestant, by his own confession, and therefore
can only be here to aid the men who have risen in rebellion, and to
conspire with the king's enemies. He will be placed in close charge
and, when the present pressing affairs have been put out of hand, I
doubt not we shall find means of learning a good deal more about
this mysterious person, who claims to be English, but who yet
speaks our language like a Frenchman."

"As to that matter, I can satisfy you at once," Philip said. "My
mother was a French lady, a daughter of the Count de Moulins of
Poitou."

"A Huguenot family, if I mistake not," the governor said, coldly.
"Well, we have other things to think of, now.

"Captain Carton, place two troopers one on each side of this
person. I authorize you to cut him down, if he tries to escape. Let
four others dismount, and carry the body of the Count de Fontaine
into the city.

"You will, of course, take the command of his troop, Count Louis;
seeing that, if I mistake not, you are his nearest relative, and
the heir to his possessions."

As Philip was led through the streets he caught sight of Pierre,
who made no sign of recognition as he passed. He was taken to the
castle, and confined in a room in a turret, looking down upon the
river. The window was closely barred, but otherwise the room,
though small, was not uncomfortable. It contained a chair, a table,
and a couch.

[Illustration: Philip in prison.]

When the door was barred and bolted behind him, Philip walked to
the window and stood looking out at the river. The prospect seemed
dark. The governor was unfavourably disposed towards him now; and
when the news came, on the morrow, that the Queen of Navarre had
slipped through his fingers, his exasperation would no doubt be
vented on him. What was now but a mere suspicion, would then become
almost a certainty; and it would, as a matter of course, be assumed
that he was there on matters connected with her flight. That he was
a Protestant was alone sufficient to condemn him to death, but his
connection with the