ands upon their swords.

"Not a movement, not a sound, or I shoot."

There was no reply to this argument, it being a convincing one even for
two duellists. The bravest man turns pale when he finds himself face to
face with sudden inevitable death, and he who threatened seemed to be
one who would, without hesitation, carry out his threats. There was
nothing for it but obedience, or a ball through them as they stood.

"What do you want with us, sir?" asked Jeannin.

Quennebert, without changing his attitude, replied--

"Commander de Jars, and you, Messire Jeannin de Castille, king's
treasurer,--you see, my gentles, that besides the advantage of arms
which strike swiftly and surely, I have the further advantage of knowing
who you are, whilst I am myself unknown,--you will carry the wounded man
into this house, into which I will not enter, for I have nothing to do
within; but I shall remain here; to await your return. After you have
handed over the patient to the doctor, you will procure paper and
write---now pay great attention--that on November 20th, 1658, about
midnight, you, aided by an unknown man, carried to this house, the
address of which you will give, a young man whom you call the Chevalier
de Moranges, and pass off as your nephew--"

"As he really is."

"Very well."

"But who told you--?"

"Let me go on: who had been wounded in a fight with swords on the same
night behind the church of Saint-Andre-des-Arts by the Duc de Vitry."

"The Duc de Vitry!--How do you know that?"

"No matter how, I know it for a fact. Having made this declaration,
you will add that the said Chevalier de Moranges is no other than
Josephine-Charlotte Boullenois, whom you, commander, abducted four
months ago from the convent of La Raquette, whom you have made your
mistress, and whom you conceal disguised as a man; then you will add
your signature. Is my information correct?"

De Jars and Jeannin were speechless with surprise for a few instants;
then the former stammered--

"Will you tell us who you are?"

"The devil in person, if you like. Well, will you do as I order?
Supposing that I am awkward enough not to kill you at two paces, do you
want me to ask you in broad daylight and aloud what I now ask at
night and in a whisper? And don't think to put me off with a false
declaration, relying on my not being able to read it by the light of the
moon; don't think either that you can take me by surprise when you hand
it me: you w