with the first touch of heat
he had shown. "It was fate--and that fool Grammont."

"Explain then, and quickly, or it will be the worse for you."

Lucas sat down, the table between them.

"Look here," he said abruptly, leaning forward over the board. "Have you
Mar's boy?"

"What boy?"

"A young Picard from the St. Quentin estate, whom the devil prompted to
come up to town to-day. Mar sent him here to-night with a love-message
to Lorance."

"Oh," said Mayenne, slowly, "if it is a question of mademoiselle's
love-affairs, it may be put off till to-morrow. It is plain to the very
lackeys that you are jealous of Mar. But at present we are discussing
l'affaire St. Quentin."

"It is all one," Lucas answered quickly. "You know what is to be the
reward of my success."

"I thought you told me you had failed."

Lucas's hand moved instinctively to his belt; then he thought better of
it and laid both hands, empty, on the table.

"Our plot has failed; but that does not mean that St. Quentin is
immortal."

"You may be very sure of one thing, my friend," the duke observed. "I
shall never give Lorance de Montluc to a white-livered flincher."

"The Duke of St. Quentin is not immortal," Lucas repeated. "I have
missed him once, but I shall get him in spite of all."

"I am not sure about Lorance even then," said Mayenne, reflectively.
"Francois de Brie is agitating himself about that young mistress. And he
has not made any failures--as yet."

Lucas sprang to his feet.

"You swore to me I should have her."

"Permit me to remind you again that you have not brought me the price."

"I will bring you the price."

"E'en then," spoke Mayenne, with the smile of the cat standing over the
mouse--"e'en then I might change my mind."

"Then," said Lucas, roundly, "there will be more than one dead duke in
France."

Mayenne looked up at him as unmoved as if it were not in the power of
mortal man to make him lose his temper. In stirring him to draw dagger,
Lucas had achieved an extraordinary triumph. Yet I somehow thought that
the man who had shown hot anger was the real man; the man who sat there
quiet was the party leader.

He said now, evenly:

"That is a silly way to talk to me, Paul."

"It is the truth for once," Lucas made sullen answer.

So long as he could prick and irritate Mayenne he preserved an air of
unshakable composure; but when Mayenne recovered patience and himself
began to prick, Lucas's guard broke down.