s were high as those of a
Tartar, and the small and sunken eyes had a restless, savage look in
them--the look of a tiger; and no tiger ever thirsted for blood more
ferociously than Dom Antoine de Mouchy, Doctor of the Sorbonne, and
President of the Chambre Ardente, thirsted for the blood of his
fellow-creatures.

Twice he glanced around him, and then sitting at his table was soon
busily employed in jotting down something on his tablets. After a
while he stopped, and some thought moved him to silent laughter.
Leaning back he let his glance travel round the room, and then arrested
it once more on his tablets.

"Ha, ha!" he laughed out loudly this time, "this is a rare dish of
fried fish! Prick up your ears, Titi!" And reaching out a long arm he
stroked the fur of the huge cat that sat crouched on the coffer, an
occasional shiver running through its body. It was old, very old, as I
could see.

At De Mouchy's voice and the touch of his hand the creature rose
slowly, turned upon Dom Antoine a pair of green eyes from which the
sight had long since fled, and hissed like an angry snake. De Mouchy
laughed again as he went on:

"You agree--eh? Well, listen to the
names--Huguenots--Christaudins--Spawn of Geneva--whose bodies shall
perish as their souls, and whose goods shall come to the
righteous--that is, to me, Titi."

For a moment light seemed to come back to those sightless eyes, and
with a purr, as if it understood, the great cat leaped lightly on to
the table and sat before De Mouchy, whilst the latter put one finger on
the tablets, and spoke again:

"_Mon vieux_! the poor fisherman has netted some fine gold-fish this
time. No little sprats of tailors of the Rue St. Antoine or
out-at-heel scholars--but fine, fat, golden carp. The pity of it,
Titi, that the great ones of the land will take toll of this
haul--tithe and fee; but there will be something left for you and for
me--you understand?"

The cat snarled, as though it had followed every word, and De Mouchy
went on, carrying out his terrible humour:

"Good! You cannot speak nor see but you can hear, and so listen!
First--the Church first always, Titi--comes Odet de Coligny, Cardinal
de Chatillon, Bishop of Beauvais--a traitor--a wolf who has stolen into
the fold of Christ--with a hundred thousand livres a year of income!"
He paused, and looked at the cat, with a snarl on his lips as evil as
that on those of his familiar.

"Secondly, the High Nobility