And then, in answer to his questions, I told him briefly of all that had befallen me since that night in Paris when the wager had been laid, and of how, through the cunning silence of Chatellerault, I was now upon the very threshold of the scaffold. His wrath burst forth at that, and what he said of the Count did me good to hear. At last I stemmed his invective.
“Let that be for the present, Mironsac,” I laughed. “You are here, and you can thwart all Chatellerault's designs by witnessing to my identity before the Keeper of the Seals.”
And then of a sudden a doubt closed like a cold hand upon my brain. I turned to Castelroux.
“Mon Dieu!” I cried. “What if they were to deny me a fresh trial?”
“Deny it you!” he laughed. “They will not be asked to grant you one.”
“There will be no need,” added Mironsac. “I have but to tell the King—”
“But, my friend,” I exclaimed impatiently, “I am to die in the morning!”
“And the King shall be told to-day—now, at once. I will go to him.”
I stared askance a moment; then the thought of the uproar that I had heard recurring to me, “Has the King arrived already?” I exclaimed.
“Naturally, monsieur. How else do I come to be here? I am in His Majesty's train.”