"There is no danger to you?"
"No more than there is to you; in one word, St. Armande, do you agree or not?"
"Very well."
"Then there is no time to lose. Jacopo!"
"Excellency."
"Pick out a man, and he, you, the lackey, and myself, will go on ahead. The rest can follow. I have given all other orders to the signor, St. Armande."
"There is Bande Nere, your worship."
"I am ready, cavaliere;" and a tall, thin, grey-moustached trooper saluted as he spoke.
He looked the man I wanted. My lackey was a stout horseman, and at a pinch might hold a sword as well as he held my valise. So, shaking hands with St. Armande, I put spurs to Castor, and we dashed off. Turning the corner of a belt of forest land, I looked back and waved my hand in further adieu to the chevalier. I caught the flutter of the white handkerchief the young dandy carried, as he loosed it to the air in reply to my salute, and the next moment the trees hid them from view.
We rode hard now, Castor going almost as freely as when we started. Indeed, I would have far outpaced the others, if I did not let him feel the bit once, and the noble beast, as if knowing his duty, required no further warning not to outstrip his companions.