"You are right, Jacques," I said; "we will stay in England, and bide our time."
"It will come, monsieur, be assured of that; and then let Etienne Cordel look out for himself."
We were still talking about the lawyer when Roger came in, bringing a note that had been left by a stranger at the Hôtel Coligny. It was addressed to me, and I recognized the handwriting immediately.
"'Tis from L'Estang," I said; "what can he have to say?"
"Open it and see," suggested Roger merrily, "that is the easiest way of finding out!"
The contents were brief, but they made me bite my lips hard. "Cordel has been granted the Le Blanc estates, and in all likelihood a patent of nobility will be made out in a few weeks. His assassins are still seeking for you."
"Well," said Roger, "as it happens, they will seek in vain, and when they do find you, they may be sorry for the discovery."
Now that my decision was made, I felt anxious to get away, hoping that new scenes and new faces might blunt the misery which L'Estang's letter had caused me. Roger was also desirous to return immediately, and, as there was a vessel timed to sail in a few days, he arranged that we should take our passage in her.
It was a beautiful September morning when we went on board, and as the ship moved slowly from the harbour I took a sad farewell of my fair but unhappy country. Stronger men might have laughed at my weakness, but my eyes were dim as, leaning over the vessel's side, I watched the receding shore. Who could foretell if I should ever behold my own land again?
"Courage, monsieur!" whispered Jacques; "we shall return."