ould probably entrust you with a
commission to the Queen? Are you ready to undertake it?"

"Perfectly."

"You will have to go back to Paris; but that is your way. When can you
start?"

It was not wise to think of a return to Paris; but I had gone too far
to shrink back now, and besides, I was beginning to believe again in my
star. So I gulped down my fears, and put a bold front on the matter,
saying:

"As soon as I can get a horse, monsieur."

"Ho!" And we looked at each other steadily. A faint smile bent his
iron lips, and, muttering something in his beard, he took up a pen,
scratched a few lines, and handed me the paper. I glanced at it, and
saw it was an order to give me any horse I liked from his stable. I
began to thank him; but he stopped me, saying:

"Show the order to Sarlaboux; and if you take my advice you will choose
Lizette, the dun mare. She will well replace the one you have--lost."

"I well know how to value such a gift, monsieur."

"Here there is a packet for the Queen; but this is not your task. I am
going to entrust you with a prisoner, whom you will place in the
Queen's hands."

"Monsieur," I began; but he read my thoughts ere I had spoken them.

"Oh, it is no catch-poll's business; I have others to do that. This
lady is only a nominal prisoner----"

"It's a woman, then?" And my thoughts went back to mademoiselle.
Could Sarlaboux have been mistaken?

"Yes; and remember that her life depends upon her reaching the Queen,
though she does not believe it."

"May I ask this lady's name?"

"Mademoiselle de Paradis, the greatest heiress in Poitou, but a
Huguenot to her little finger-tips."

"In that case, monsieur, the Queen's mantle of protection is likely to
be a shroud."

"You do not understand," he snapped. "Mademoiselle, or rather her
lands, have attracted the attention of Diane de Poitiers and her brood
of swallows. The Queen would give her right hand to thwart the
mistress in this, and she, and only she, can save her. Montpensier
will be here in a fortnight, and I shall be gone. You know, I think,
what that means. I give you my word of honour, monsieur, that this
lady's life is on a hair. Why I should trouble about it I don't know;
but the Queen has commanded me in this, and Jean de Paradis, her
father, was my old friend, and for his sake I would save his child.
But you seem to be sniffing the air over this, M. Broussel----"

"I was, monsieur! But now I accept t