ch marked him at times, and left me in doubt
whether he were all knave or in part enthusiast, 'with all those who set
themselves against St. Peter and his Church!'

'I have heard you say much the same of the King of France,' I said
derisively.

'You trust in him?' he retorted, his eyes gleaming. 'You have been
up there, and seen his crowded chamber, and counted his forty-five
gentlemen and his grey-coated Swiss? I tell you the splendour you saw
was a dream, and will vanish as a dream. The man's strength and his
glory shall go from him, and that soon. Have you no eyes to see that
he is beside the question? There are but two powers in France--the Holy
Union, which still prevails, and the accursed Huguenot; and between them
is the battle.'

'Now you are telling me more,' I said.

He grew sober in a moment, looking at me with a vicious anger hard to
describe.

'Tut tut,' he said, showing his yellow teeth, 'the dead tell no tales.
And for Henry of Valois, he so loves a monk that you might better accuse
his mistress. But for you, I have only to cry "Ho! a Huguenot and a
spy!" and though he loved you more than he loved Quelus or Maugiron, he
dare not stretch out a finger to save you!'

I knew that he spoke the truth, and with difficulty maintained the air
of indifference with which I had entered on the interview.

'But what if I leave Blois?' I ventured, merely to see what he would
say.

He laughed. 'You cannot,' he answered. 'The net is round you, M. de
Marsac, and there are those at every gate who know you and have their
instructions. I can destroy you, but I would fain have your information,
and for that I will pay you five hundred crowns and let you go.'

'To fall into the hands of the King of Navarre?'

'He will disown you, in any case,' he answered eagerly. 'He had that
in his mind, my friend, when he selected an agent so obscure. He will
disown you. Ah, mon Dieu! had I been an hour quicker I had caught
Rosny--Rosny himself!'

'There is one thing lacking still,' I replied. 'How am I to be sure
that, when I have told you what I know, you will pay me the money or let
me go?'

'I will swear to it!' he answered earnestly, deceived into thinking I
was about to surrender. 'I will give you my oath, M. de Marsac!'

'I would as soon have your shoe-lace!' I exclaimed, the indignation I
could not entirely repress finding vent in that phrase. 'A Churchman's
vow is worth a candle--or a candle and a half, is it?' I co