ife, of
course--in the service of his King. But there are men who would do this
for their master's sake, to ensure his long and peaceful reign."

"And if he fails?" said the King.

"He would not fail, Sire. He would be carried forward by the knowledge
that he was fighting in the cause of right and duty towards the master
that he loved. Have no fear of that, Sire. He would succeed."

"But I have fear," cried the King. "Find me such a man as that, and I
should look upon him as a treasure whose life I would not risk."

"There would be no risk, Sire. It would be a question not of force but
guile. He would make his way to the Court of your brother of England in
a way which I have planned."

"With recommendations from me?"

"Perhaps, Sire. I have not settled that."

"No," said the King angrily. "Why, man, when the gems were missed, the
theft would be laid at my door. I would sooner march my people across
English ground and take them honestly by force."

"That could not be done, Sire. Leave that to me. Your messenger must
go, and carry out his ambassage by guile."

"And who is to be the man?" asked the King.

"I!" cried Denis, springing forward, to sink upon one knee before
Francis, and so suddenly as to rouse the dog, which leaped towards him,
barking furiously.

"You, my boy!" cried the King.

"No, Sire," cried Saint Simon excitedly, following Denis's example, to
spring to the King's feet. "I will go. It is work for a man grown, not
for a puny boy."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the King merrily. "Quiet, Tonnerre! Quiet!" For
the great hound, roused by the excitement, was filling the chamber with
his deep-toned bay, his eyes glaring redly, and his glistening white
fangs bared, as he gazed in his master's face as if asking for orders as
to whom he should seize by the throat and pin.

"Down, sir!" cried the King again. "Quiet! There, Leoni, was I not
right in letting these boys share our confidence? Who says that Francis
of Valois has not followers in whom he can trust?"

"Not I, Sire," said the doctor grimly; "but this is no work for them."

"Not for Denis here," cried Saint Simon excitedly, "but, your Majesty,
for me. I would strike, and strike now. Mine be the task to do or
die!"

"Silence, boy!" cried the King, laying his hand on Denis's head as he
dumbly looked up at him in protest, his eyes appealing the while that
his monarch's favour should be awarded to him alone. "No, no;
emphati