eyes on him that I
know. What manner of man is he?"

"Monsieur, we have just heard him as he slept."

De Ganache shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the clock.

"It is time," he said. "Warn mademoiselle."

Pechaud turned; but even as he did so there was a light step on the
stairs, and mademoiselle came down dressed for travelling, and holding
her riding-whip in her hand. As she passed she glanced swiftly in my
direction, and for the moment I thought I was discovered; but the
shadow was impenetrable, and she went on. De Ganache rose to receive
her, holding out his hand. I noticed that she barely touched it, as
she asked quickly:

"Is all ready?"

"Everything, Diane." And I winced at the familiar address.

"De Ganache," she said, "I had your word for it that no harm should
befall Monsieur Broussel. He risked his life for me, and I owe it to
him that I stand here alive; what have you done with him?"

De Ganache smiled. "Even if he had not acted as he has, if he were my
bitter foe, your word would have been law to me. Monsieur Broussel is
alive and well. If we had time I would take you down the passage and
show him to you--sleeping the sleep of the just."

"Forgive me! I know not what it is. I am haunted by all sorts of
fears----"

"Then fear no more," he said gently, trying to take her hand, but she
withdrew it from him. And then he dropped his arm, and went on: "By
to-morrow evening you will be with friends, and, perhaps, you will
learn by then that there are others ready and willing to die for you if
need be."

"Gaston!" she said; and now it was she held out her hand, and he bent
respectfully over it as he touched it with his lips.

To tell truth, I was suffering more torture than if I had been run
through, for in Diane's last word I felt all my hopes vanish, I was
taken off my cross, however, by the necessity for action, for Pechaud,
who had discreetly retired at mademoiselle's entrance, now returned,
and announced that the horses were ready.

"Come!" said De Ganache, and as he said so I stepped out and faced
them. It was a bolt from the blue. Mademoiselle shrank back with a
little startled cry. Pechaud stood as one petrified, his jaws agape,
and his old hands trembling, whilst De Ganache put himself between me
and mademoiselle, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Stand back!" he said hotly. "Back!"

And as hot an answer trembled on my tongue, but I held myself in.

"Monsieur,