"Then, sir, what do you intend to do with me?" D'Entragues asked. The defiant air with which he looked from me to the men who remained barely disguised his apprehensions.
"That depends, M. Louis," I replied, recurring to my usual tone of politeness, "on your answers to three questions."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Ask them," he said.
"Do you deny that you have laid an ambush for the King in the road which passes the Rock of the Serpents?"
"Absolutely."
"Or that you were yesterday at an inn near here in converse with three men?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you deny that there is such an ambush laid?"
"At least I know naught of it!" he repeated with scorn. "'Tis an old wife's story. I would stake my life on it."
"Enough," I answered slowly. "You have said you would stake your life on it. You shall. The evening grows cold, and, as you are my prisoner, I must have a care of you. Kindly put on this cloak, and precede me, M. d'Entragues. We return to Fontainebleau by the Rock of the Serpents."