ring at the inn. Old Pierre will be
none too pleased at having guests who rise so early; but there, 'twill
be another coin or so to add to his hoard."

"Pierre is a wise man," I said.

"I think not, monsieur. There is little wisdom in saving money for
others to spend. The king's troopers will ride through here some day,
and Pierre will be a cunning man if they do not strip him as bare as a
trussed fowl. 'Tis more satisfactory these days to spend one's money
while one has the chance. And things will never be any better until they
send the Italian woman out of the country."

Jacques generally spoke of the Queen-Mother as the Italian woman, and he
regarded her as the chief cause of all our troubles.

"She cares for no one but herself," he continued, "not even for the boy
king, and the Guises have her under their thumb. What with them and her
Italian favourites there is no room in France for an honest Frenchman.
Listen, some one rides behind us! 'Tis the early riser from the inn
perhaps. Faith, he is a keen judge of horseflesh."

"And he has a firm seat," I remarked, glancing round. "He will overtake
us in a few minutes. Shall we quicken our pace?"

"No, monsieur. If he is a friend there is no need; should he be an enemy
'twill but arouse suspicion."

"Good-day, messieurs," cried a pleasant voice, "I trust we are well
met. I am a stranger in the district, and wish to discover the
whereabouts of one Etienne Cordel. He is an advocate from Paris, but he
owns a small estate in the neighbourhood."

"A tall man," said Jacques, "with a nose like a hawk's beak, and eyes
that look in opposite directions?"

"Faith, my friend," laughed the stranger jovially, "you have his picture
to a nicety. That is Etienne Cordel. Are you acquainted with him?"

"I have met him," replied Jacques carelessly. "We shall pass within a
mile or two of his place, if you care to travel in our company."

"Nothing would please me more," declared the cavalier. "This is a stroke
of good fortune on which I had not counted. I spent the night at the inn
yonder, but the dolt of a landlord might have been one of the staves of
his own barrels: he could not answer me a question!"

"Ha! my dashing friend," I thought to myself, "old Pierre must have had
his reasons for making a fool of you," for in truth the landlord knew
every one, and everything that happened, for miles around.

The stranger had drawn his horse abreast of mine, and was riding on my
left.