at it was of a lighter colour at the roots. His hair, too, was
beginning to lose its glossy blackness. It was turning dull, and
presently, no doubt, it would begin to pale, so that it was high time he
spread his wings and took flight from Condillac.

"We had best wait until midnight. It will give them time to be soundly
in their slumbers. Though, should there be signs of any one stirring
even then, you had better wait till later. It were foolish to risk
having our going prevented for the sake of leaving a half-hour earlier."

"Depend upon me," Arsenio answered him. "When I open the door of your
tower I shall whistle to you. The key of the postern hangs on the
guardroom wall. I shall possess myself of that before I come."

"Good," said Garnache, "we understand each other."

And on that they might have parted there and then, but that there
happened in that moment a commotion at the gate. Men hurried from the
guardhouse, and Fortunio's voice sounded loud in command. A horseman had
galloped up to Condillac, walked his horse across the bridge--which
was raised only at night--and was knocking with the butt of his whip an
imperative summons upon the timbers of the gate.

By Fortunio's orders it was opened, and a man covered with dust, astride
a weary, foam-flecked horse, rode under the archway of the keep into the
first courtyard of the chateau.

Garnache eyed him in surprise and inquiry, and he read in the man's
appearance that he was a courier. The horseman had halted within a few
paces of the spot where "Battista" and his companion stood, and seeing
in the vilely clad Garnache a member of the Condillac household, he
flung him his reins, then got down stiffly from his horse.

Fortunio, bristling with importance, his left hand on the hilt of his
rapier, the fingers of his right twirling at his long fair mustachios,
at once confronted him and craved his business.

"I am the bearer of letters for Madame the Dowager Marquise de
Condillac," was the reply; whereupon, with an arrogant nod, Fortunio
bade the fellow go with him, and issued an order that his horse should
be cared for.

Arsenio was speaking in Garnache's ear. The man's nature was
inquisitive, and he was indulging idle conjectures as to what might
be the news this courier brought. Garnache's mind, actuated by very
different motives, was engaged upon the same task, so much so that not
a word heard he of what his supposed compatriot was whispering. Whence
came t