he Cid and looked down at him. 'Yes,' I said mechanically, 'I
am M. de Marsac. But I do not know you.'

'Nevertheless I have been watching for you for three days,' he replied.
'M. de Rosny received your message. This is for you.'

He handed me a scrap of paper. 'From whom?' I asked.

'Maignan,' he answered briefly. And with that, and a stealthy look
round, he left me, and went the way he had been going before.

I tore open the note, and knowing that Maignan could not write, was
not surprised to find that it lacked any signature. The brevity of its
contents vied with the curtness of its bearer. 'In Heaven's name go back
and wait,' it ran. 'Your enemy is here, and those who wish you well are
powerless.'

A warning so explicit, and delivered under such circumstances, might
have been expected to make me pause even then. But I read the message
with the same dull indifference, the same dogged resolve with which the
sight of the crowded gateway before me had inspired me. I had not come
so far and baffled Turenne by an hour to fail in my purpose at the last;
nor given such pledges to another to prove false to myself. Moreover,
the distant rattle of musketry, which went to show that a skirmish was
taking place on the farther side of the Castle, seemed an invitation to
me to proceed; for now, if ever, my sword might earn protection and a
pardon. Only in regard to M. de Rosny, from whom I had no doubt that the
message came, I resolved to act with prudence; neither making any appeal
to him in public nor mentioning his name to others in private.

The Cid had borne me by this time into the middle of the throng about
the gateway, who, wondering to see a stranger of my appearance arrive
without attendants, eyed me with a mixture of civility and forwardness.
I recognised more than one man whom I had seen about the Court at St.
Jean d'Angely six months before; but so great is the disguising power of
handsome clothes and equipments that none of these knew me. I beckoned
to the nearest, and asked him if the King of Navarre was in the Chateau.

'He has gone to see the King of France at St. Cloud,' the man answered,
with something of wonder that anyone should be ignorant of so important
a fact. 'He is expected here in an hour.'

I thanked him, and calculating that I should still have time and to
spare before the arrival of M. de Turenne, I dismounted, and taking the
rein over my arm, began to walk up and down in the shade of the wall.