c, cheered myself with an oath or two, and again
I called Michelot. When he came, I asked him if he were acquainted
with M. de Canaples, to which he replied that he was, having seen the
gentleman in my company.

"Then," I said, "you will repair to M. de Canaples's lodging in the Rue
des Gesvres, and ascertain discreetly whether he be at home. If he is,
you will watch the house until he comes forth, then follow him, and
bring me word thereafter where he is to be found. Should he be already
abroad before you reach the Rue des Gesvres, endeavour to ascertain
whither he has gone, and return forthwith. But be discreet, Michelot.
You understand?"

He assured me that he did, and left me to nurse my unpleasant thoughts
for half an hour, returning at the end of that time with the information
that M. de Canaples was seated at dinner in the "Auberge du Soleil."

Naught could have been more attuned to my purpose, and straightway
I drew on my boots, girt on my sword, and taking my hat and cloak, I
sallied out into the rain, and wended my way at a sharp pace towards the
Rue St. Honore.

One o'clock was striking as I crossed the threshold of the "Soleil" and
flung my dripping cloak to the first servant I chanced upon.

I glanced round the well-filled room, and at one of the tables I espied
my quarry in company with St. Auban and Montmedy--the very gentlemen
who were to fight beside him that evening--and one Vilmorin, as arrant a
coxcomb and poltroon as could be found in France. With my beaver cocked
at the back of my head, and a general bearing that for aggressiveness
would be hard to surpass, I strode up to their table, and stood for a
moment surveying them with an insolent stare that made them pause in
their conversation. They raised their noble heads and bestowed upon me a
look of haughty and disdainful wonder,--such a look as one might bestow
upon a misbehaving lackey,--all save Vilmorin, who, with a coward's keen
nose for danger, turned slightly pale and fidgeted in his chair. I was
well known to all of them, but my attitude forbade all greeting.

"Has M. de Luynes lost anything?" St. Auban inquired icily.

"His wits, mayhap," quoth Canaples with a contemptuous shrug.

He was a tall, powerfully built man, this Canaples, with a swart, cruel
face that was nevertheless not ill-favoured, and a profusion of black
hair.

"There is a temerity in M. de Canaples's rejoinder that I had not looked
for," I said banteringly.

Cana