Gaubert looked and paused, seeming to give the matter a second’s thought. “I saw him fall,” said he. “It may be that he was no more than wounded.”
“And you left him there?” roared the servant. “You left him there?”
Gaubert shrugged his shoulders. “What could I do against four? Besides, the crowd was interfering already, and it seemed best to me to come for help. These soldiers, now—”
“Aye,” cut in Tressan, and he turned about and called the sergeant. “This becomes my affair.” And he announced his quality to Monsieur Gaubert. “I am the Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny.”
“I am fortunate in finding you,” returned Gaubert, and bowed. “I could place the matter in no better hand.”
But Tressan, without heeding him, was already ordering the sergeant to ride hard with his troopers for the Champs aux Capuchins. Rabecque, however, thrust himself suddenly forward.
“Not so, Monsieur le Seneschal,” he interposed in fresh alarm, and mindful of his charge. “These men are here to guard Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. Let them remain. I will go to Monsieur de Garnache.”
The Seneschal stared at him with contemptuously pouting underlip. “You will go?” said he. “And what can you do alone? Who are you?” he asked.
“I am Monsieur de Garnache’s servant.”
“A lackey? Ah!” And Tressan turned aside and resumed his orders as if Rabecque did not exist or had never spoken. “To the Champs aux Capuchins!” said he. “At the gallop, Pommier! I will send others after you.”