seemed to the lad as instantaneous as its effect. He made a
bold brave struggle, uttering a groaning half-stifled sound, and he
vainly strove to free himself from the pinioning hands of Saint Simon;
while, as if through a misty dream, he saw with starting eyes the dim
figure of his master's guest straight before him, and pointing a
stiletto at his throat.

The next minute Saint Simon, in obedience to the whispered orders of
Leoni, had raised the helpless lad in his arms.

"Is there to be no end to this black night's work?" muttered Francis
angrily. "I don't know how it is. I don't think I took too much of my
brother Henry's wine, for I wanted to dance; but my head is all confused
and strange."

"It was the heat of the room, perhaps, sir," said Leoni.

"Perhaps so. The place was hot and stifling," said Francis. "There are
moments when my brain seems to whirl, and things go round. Did I go to
sleep?"

"Yes, sir; you were certainly insensible to all that passed for a time."

"Of course I was," said the King angrily, "if I was asleep; but why
don't you say so? Here, I don't know what's the matter with me. I must
have dreamed that you took me by the wrist and led me along one of these
dark galleries, to stop and lean against some great piece of furniture
while something was going on. Then all was dark and strange again, and
I seemed to be going for ever along dark passages, till I felt the fresh
air coming in through an open window looking out upon the terrace.
Well, come, Saint Simon; that was not dreaming."

"No, sir," said the young courtier drily.

"You were suffering from excitement, sir," said Leoni quietly. "A touch
of vertigo. You have been doing too much of late. But you feel better
now?"

"Oh yes, better now--and worse, for I am not certain but what this rough
dealing with that boy is not part of another dream."

"That is no dream, sir," said Leoni meaningly; "but be silent and let me
guide. We are on our way to make our escape."

"Escape!" whispered back the King excitedly. "Then--then--oh, it's
coming back quite clearly. You have tried and failed?"

"Hist! Silence, Comte!" whispered Leoni, in a commanding tone, as he
turned upon the speaker, but without taking his hand from Carrbroke's
lips. "Our task is nearly at an end, sir, and I will answer to you
later on.--Now, Saint Simon, lay the boy quickly on that couch."

"Have you killed him?" whispered Francis.

"No, sir; only plung