his handsome young priest who goes by the
name of Brother Jacques; of what family?"

"That I do not know; no one knows; not even Father Chaumonot, who is
his sponsor. The good Father picked him up somewhere in Italy and
placed him in a convent."

"Monsieur le Comte, then, is at Three Rivers?"

"Yes; and to-morrow we shall set out for him; though he may return at
any hour."

"I thank your Excellency. The Henri IV sails by next week, so I
understand. I daresay that we both shall be on it. At any rate, I
shall wait."

The door opened and Jehan, expressing as much excitement as his
weather-beaten face made possible, stood before them.

"Well?" said the marquis.

"Monsieur le Comte is returned from Three Rivers, and is about to dine
in the citadel."

"Tell a trooper that the presence of Monsieur le Chevalier is requested
here at once. Do not let the Chevalier see you," and the governor rose
and laid down his pipe. "I will leave the room at your service,
Monsieur."

"It is very kind of you." If the marquis was excited, or nervous,
there was nothing on his face to indicate it.

Jehan and the governor made their exits through opposite doors; and
Monsieur le Marquis sat alone. Several minutes passed. Once or twice
the marquis turned his attention to his wine-soaked sleeve. Steps were
heard in the corridor, but these died away in the distance. From time
to time the old man's hand wandered to his throat, as if something was
bothering him there. Time marked off a quarter of an hour. Then the
door opened, and a man entered; a man bronzed of countenance, tall, and
deep of chest. He wore the trapper's blouse and fringed leggings.
From where he stood he could not see who sat at the table.

"Come toward the light, Monsieur," said the marquis, "where I may see
you to better advantage." The marquis rose and stood with the fingers
of his right band pressing lightly on the table.

At the sound of that voice, the Chevalier's heart leaped. He strode
forward quickly, and, leaning across the table, stared into his
father's eyes.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE MASTER OF IRONIES

So they stood for some moments, the one with eyes glaring, the other
with quiet scrutiny.

"It appears to agree with you here," began the marquis. There was not
the slightest tremor in his voice.

"You?" said the son.

The marquis winced inwardly: that pronoun was so pregnant with
surprise, contempt, anger, and indignation! "Yes, it