That same day, in the afternoon, while the jousting and holiday-making was in progress at Tournelles, the Constable de Montmorency was completing his examination, in Diane de Poitiers's closet at the Louvre, of one of his secret agents.
The spy was of medium height and swarthy complexion; he had black hair and eyes, an aquiline nose, a forked chin, and projecting lower lip, and his back was slightly crooked. He bore a most striking resemblance to Martin-Guerre, Gabriel's faithful squire. Any one seeing them separately might well have mistaken either for the other; and he who saw them standing side by side would have taken them for twin brothers, so exactly alike were they in every respect. They had the same features and the same figure, and were apparently of the same age.
"And the courier, what did you do with him, Master Arnauld?" asked the constable.
"Monseigneur, I put him out of the way. It had to be done; but it was in the night and in the forest of Fontainebleau. The murder was laid at the door of robbers. I am very careful."
"Never mind, Master Arnauld; it is a very serious matter, and I blame you for being so ready to play with your knife."
"I shrink at nothing when Monseigneur's service is at stake."
"That's all very well; but once for all, Master Arnauld, remember that if you allow yourself to steal, I will allow you to hang," said the constable, dryly and rather contemptuously.
"Never fear, Monseigneur; I am a man of discretion and foresight."
"Now let's see the letter."
"Here it is, Monseigneur."