I gazed at him, too astonished to reply.
“I will ask you one more favor,” he added. “Will you assist me in carrying yonder fellow to the bed? We must give him a chance, if he hath a spark of life left in him.”
“Willingly,” I answered, and between us we raised the man, who lay where he had fallen, and stretched him on the couch. He gave no sign of life and I thought him done for, but when the doublet was stripped from his breast I saw that the blood was still slowly oozing from the wound which my sword had made. Duval hesitated an instant and then lifted the mask from his face. I had never seen the man before, but he had a strong, bold countenance, with something of rough power in it.
“That was the master against whose cuirass you broke your sword, M. de Marsan,” remarked Duval, and then as he met my inquiring glance he added, “Believe me, I appreciate your courtesy, Monsieur, in keeping back the questions which must be on your lips; but ’tis a matter you are ignorant of, even were I at liberty to explain it. And now I must ask you to leave us, for we have much to do.”
“We will meet again,” I said earnestly as I took his hand.
But he merely shook his head.
“Claire will accompany you to the street,” he said, and turned away to his disordered desk.
I followed her without a word along the hallway and down the dark stair; but at the foot I caught her hand and held it.
“Can it be, Mademoiselle,” I asked, “that this is adieu? Surely you do not believe so!”
“I fear I must believe so, Monsieur,” she answered softly. “Only I wish myself to thank you for your gallantry and courage. They were given to a good cause.”