I breathed a long sigh.
“I’m glad he’s gone,” I said.
My brother and the old Count exchanged glances.
“There’s something back of that fellow,” said André. “We must be on our guard for I think we shall hear from him again.”
We sat for almost an hour. None of us stirred except André who busied himself in making a fire. When the blaze had spread warmth about the room he came and sat down with us again. A tiny spot of blood was oozing through the bandages.
“It’s from the exertion,” he explained with a smile. “I wonder if the fellow who attacked us on the road was a hireling of De Marsac?”
At that the dogs began barking and yelping as they did before. The old Count of Gramont started to the door, but before he reached it, it flew wide open. It was De Marsac who burst into the room. He must have fallen into the mud for his velvet breeches were splattered with clay. A wild look shone from his eyes and he was of the color of death.
“An attack has been made upon my life!” he cried.
We rose from our seats.
“I was making down the road towards the armorer’s where I left my horse. I was set upon by a band of men. Look here!” he exclaimed and drew an arrow from under his cloak. “But for the coat of mail I was wearing this would have gone through my heart!”