"

The newcomer must be Black Michael. I saw him directly, as he advanced
towards the window. He caught young Rupert by the arm.

"The moat would hold more than the King!" said he, with a significant
gesture.

"Does your Highness threaten me?" asked Rupert.

"A threat is more warning than most men get from me."

"Yet," observed Rupert, "Rudolf Rassendyll has been much threatened, and
yet lives!"

"Am I in fault because my servants bungle?" asked Michael scornfully.

"Your Highness has run no risk of bungling!" sneered Rupert.

It was telling the duke that he shirked danger as plain as ever I
have heard a man told. Black Michael had self-control. I dare say he
scowled--it was a great regret to me that I could not see their faces
better--but his voice was even and calm, as he answered:

"Enough, enough! We mustn't quarrel, Rupert. Are Detchard and Bersonin
at their posts?"

"They are, sir."

"I need you no more."

"Nay, I'm not oppressed with fatigue," said Rupert.

"Pray, sir, leave us," said Michael, more impatiently. "In ten minutes
the drawbridge will be drawn back, and I presume you have no wish to
swim to your bed."

Rupert's figure disappeared. I heard the door open and shut again.
Michael and Antoinette de Mauban were left together. To my chagrin,
the duke laid his hand on the window and closed it. He stood talking
to Antoinette for a moment or two. She shook her head, and he turned
impatiently away. She left the window. The door sounded again, and Black
Michael closed the shutters.

"De Gautet, De Gautet, man!" sounded from the drawbridge. "Unless you
want a bath before your bed, come along!"

It was Rupert's voice, coming from the end of the drawbridge. A moment
later he and De Gautet stepped out on the bridge. Rupert's arm was
through De Gautet's, and in the middle of the bridge he detained his
companion and leant over. I dropped behind the shelter of "Jacob's
Ladder."

Then Master Rupert had a little sport. He took from De Gautet a bottle
which he carried, and put it to his lips.

"Hardly a drop!" he cried discontentedly, and flung it in the moat.

It fell, as I judged from the sound and the circles on the water, within
a yard of the pipe. And Rupert, taking out his revolver, began to shoot
at it. The first two shots missed the bottle, but hit the pipe. The
third shattered the bottle. I hoped that the young ruffian would be
content; but he emptied the other barrels at the pipe, and one