across us, and we gazed at each other blankly. "It is
too late," said the cure; "he has carried his secret to the grave."

"Is he dead?"

"Dead, monsieur."

"We must make inquiries," I murmured. "Urie shall show us the place
where he found the body. Come, Jacques, we can do no good here."

"I will follow in a few minutes, monsieur. I wish to discover if there
is anything by which we can identify the stranger."

Urie and I went out together, but the keenest search failed to help us.
The dead man's horse had disappeared, and his assailants had left no
trace behind them. I questioned the villagers closely, but none could
throw any light on the tragedy. The victim was unknown to them, and no
one had seen any strange persons in the neighbourhood. Jacques, too, was
at fault, having failed to find anything in the stranger's clothing that
would tend to solve the mystery.

"It is a curious thing, monsieur," he remarked that evening. "A dead
body on the highroad is not an uncommon sight, but this man was coming
to you on a special errand."

"It is evident he was bringing me a letter. The question is--did his
murderers kill him to obtain possession of it?"

"The note has disappeared."

"True, and I am inclined to think it was the possession of the letter
that cost him his life. Now, who are the persons likely to write to me?
My sister--but we can dismiss her--one doesn't commit murder for a page
of ordinary gossip."

"No," said Jacques, "I do not think the poor fellow was a messenger from
Mademoiselle Jeanne."

"There is Monsieur Bellievre! He is at Court and aware of what is going
on there. Is it likely that he has heard some favourable news, and--"

"Ah, monsieur," Jacques broke in hastily, "our thoughts are the same.
These cut-throats are in the pay of Etienne Cordel, and in killing this
poor fellow they have struck at you. But how, I cannot understand."

"We know that Cordel has friends at Court," I continued. "Let us
suppose for an instant that the king has agreed to sign the papers; the
lawyer would learn the news quickly enough."

"Yes, monsieur," agreed Jacques, "that is so. But how does that help
us?"

"Thus. Monsieur Bellievre or the Admiral writes, giving me the
information, and advising me to return. I arrive at Blois, or wherever
the Court may be; the papers are signed, and Cordel's chance of the
estates has vanished. He certainly might kill me afterwards, but it
could be only in revenge."

"But,