"Priest! What priest?"
"Some one Mademoiselle would bring to Vayenne," answered Barbier. "So Lemasle told us; but I warrant he lied, for this same priest was a fearless horseman, and wielded a sword that took its full toll of blood. We had surrounded them when Lemasle and Mademoiselle dashed through us, and we let them go, closing upon the Duke and this priest. In a moment they had turned, and were fleeing along the forest road. A shot wounded the Duke, another stopped his horse, but as it fell this priest lifted the wounded man before him on to his animal. We followed, but he outwitted us. He was no priest, I'll swear to that."
"A thousand curses on your blundering," said Felix. "He was wounded, you say?"
"Yes."
"To the death?"
"That I cannot tell," Barbier answered.
"I will tell you," said Felix. "He was. Do you understand? He was. He died in the forest."
"We searched. I have left them searching. We found nothing."
"Fool, you must find something. Is a man killed in conflict always recognizable? Mar the face of some dead comrade, mar it effectually, and then come with your story to Vayenne. Trust me, it shall find easy credence. I will prepare Vayenne for it. Do you understand?"
"But this priest?"