with battlements at the top, and a small machicolation, little more than
a string-course, above each story; this serving at once to lessen the
monotony of the dead-walls, and to add to the frowning weight of the
upper part. The windows were few and small, and the house looked
damp and mouldy; lichens clotted the bricks, and moss filled the
string-courses. A low door opening from the lane into the garden
naturally attracted my attention; but it proved to be of abnormal
strength, and bolted both at the top and bottom.

Assured that nothing could be done on that side, and being unwilling to
remain longer in the neighbourhood, lest I should attract attention, I
returned to the street, and twice walked past the front of the house,
seeing all I could with as little appearance of seeing anything as I
could compass. The front retreated somewhat from the line of the street,
and was flanked on the farther side by stables. Only one chimney smoked,
and that sparely. Three steps led up to imposing double doors, which
stood half open, and afforded a glimpse of a spacious hall and a state
staircase. Two men, apparently servants, lounged on the steps, eating
chestnuts, and jesting with one another; and above the door were three
shields blazoned in colours. I saw with satisfaction, as I passed the
second time, that the middle coat was that of Turenne impaling one which
I could not read--which thoroughly satisfied me that the bow of velvet
had not lied; so that, without more ado, I turned homewards, formulating
my plans as I went.

I found all as I had left it; and my mother still lying in a
half-conscious state, I was spared the pain of making excuses for past
absence, or explaining that which I designed. I communicated the plan
I had formed to Simon Fleix, who saw no difficulty in procuring a
respectable person to stay with Madame de Bonne. But for some time he
would come no farther into the business. He listened, his mouth open
and his eyes glittering, to my plan until I came to his share in it; and
then he fell into a violent fit of trembling.

'You want me to fight, monsieur,' he cried reproachfully, shaking all
over like one in the palsy. 'You said so the other night. You want to
get me killed! That's it.'

'Nonsense!' I answered sharply. 'I want you to hold the horses!'

He looked at me wildly, with a kind of resentment in his face, and yet
as if he were fascinated.

'You will drag me into it!' he persisted. 'You will!'

'