'In a moment, Pantin,' cut in dame Annette's voice, and the good woman came up to me with a flagon of warmed wine in her hand.

'Take this first, chevalier, 'tis Maître Pantin's nightcap; but I do not think he will need it this night. God be thanked you have come back safe.'

I wrung her hand, and drained the wine at a draught, and then, with Pantin ahead holding his lantern aloft, we ascended the stair that led to my apartments. As we went up I asked Jacques—

'Did you manage the business?'

'Yes, monsieur, and Marie and her father are both safe at Auriac. I rode back almost without drawing rein, and reached here but this afternoon; and then, monsieur, I heard what had happened, and gave you up for lost.'

At this juncture we reached the small landing near the sitting-room I had occupied, and Pantin without further ceremony flung open the door, and announced me by name. I stepped in with some surprise, the others crowding after me, and at the first glance recognised, to my astonishment, de Belin, who had half risen from his seat, his hand on his sword-hilt, as the door was flung open; and in the other figure, seated in an armchair, and staring moodily into the fire, saw Palin, who, however, made no movement beyond turning his head and looking coldly at me. Not so Belin, for he sprang forwards to meet me in his impulsive way, calling out—

'Arnidieu! You are back! Palin, take heart, man! He would never have come back alone.'

The last words hit me like a blow, and my confusion was increased by the demeanour of Palin, who gave no sign of recognition; and there I stood in the midst of them, fumbling with the hilt of my sword, and facing the still, motionless figure before me, the light of the candles falling on the stern, drawn features of the Huguenot.

My forehead grew hot with shame and anger, as I looked from one to another, and then, like a criminal before a judge, I faced the old man and told him exactly what had happened—all except one thing; that I kept back. At the mention of Ravaillac's name, and of his identity with the Capuchin, the Vicompte de Belin swore bitterly under his moustache; and but for that exclamation my story was heard in stillness to its bitter end. For a moment one might have heard a pin fall, and then Palin said, 'And you left her—there!' The dry contempt of his manner stung me; but I could say nothing, save mutter—

'I did what I could.'