"I saw you," briefly.
"A great many persons saw me that night. I was on guard at the Louvre."
"Between the hours of eleven and twelve?"
Silence. A spider, seeing the light, swung down in jerks from the beams and dangled at the side of the candlestick. Suddenly the priest reached over and caught the vicomte's restless hand.
"Rest assured, Jesuit, that when you broke my sword you left me weaponless."
"I did well to break that sword. It was an evil one."
"You are very strong for a priest," coolly.
"Oh, do not doubt that there is a man within these robes. Listen. Your path and that of the Chevalier du Cévennes must not cross again."
"You speak in riddles."
"Not to you. Behind De Leviston you struck first; now from behind a drunken soldier. It was you all the time. You tricked us cleverly. You were such a good fellow, laughing, witty, debonair. For my part, I would have sworn that D'Hérouville was the man. Besides you, Monsieur, D'Hérouville is a tyro, a Mazarin to a Machiavelli."