them to be seated.

"We have not the wherewithal, sir," said one with a wistful smile.

"The thing is mended as soon as told," I cried, and, calling the host, I
bade him bring three bottles. "A man is more at home with his own
bottle," said I.

With the wine came new gaiety, and with gaiety a flow of speech. M. de
Fontelles would have admired the fluency with which I discoursed with
his servants, they telling me of travelling in their country, I
describing the incidents of the road in England.

"There are rogues enough on the way in both countries, I'll warrant," I
laughed. "But perhaps you carry nothing of great value and laugh at
robbers?"

"Our spoil would make a robber a poor meal, sir; but our master is in a
different plight."

"Ah! He carries treasure?"

"Not in money, sir," answered one. The other nudged him, as though to
bid him hold his tongue.

"Come, fill your glasses," I cried, and they obeyed very readily.

"Well, men have met their death between here and London often enough
before now," I pursued meditatively, twisting my glass of wine in my
fingers. "But with you for his guard, M. de Fontelles should be safe
enough."

"We're charged to guard him with our lives, and not leave him till he
comes to the Ambassador's house."

"But these rogues hunt sometimes in threes and fours," said I. "You
might well lose one of your number."

"We're cheap, sir," laughed one. "The King of France has many of us."

"But if your master were the one?"

"Even then provision is made."

"What? Could you carry his message--for if his treasure isn't money, I
must set it down as tidings--to the Ambassador."

They looked at one another rather doubtfully. But I was not behindhand
in filling their glasses.

"Still we should go on, even without _Monsieur_," said one.

"But to what end?" I cried in feigned derision.

"Why, we too have a message."

"Indeed. Can you carry the King's message?"

"None better, sir," said the shorter of the pair, with a shrewd twinkle
in his eye. "For we don't understand it."

"Is it difficult then?"

"Nay, it's so simple as to see without meaning."

"What, so simple--but your bottle is empty! Come, another?"

"Indeed no, _Monsieur_."

"A last bottle between us! I'll not be denied." And I called for a
fourth.

When we were well started on the drinking of it, I asked carelessly,

"And what's your message?"

But neither the wine nor the negligence of my question had quite lu