“Gone?” A shiver ran down André’s back.
“Clean as a whistle. The idiot had taken the short cut, too. As far as I can make out he was attacked from behind, stunned, and robbed. Will you help to bring the poor wretch back to Versailles, for I must go on to Paris?”
André sat appalled. “Of course,” he replied presently.
“This is the Vincennes affair over again,” the Chevalier remarked when they had unbound the courier and set him on André’s horse. “It is devilish this treachery, devilish and amazing.”
De Nérac nodded. He was in no mood to discuss anything with anybody just now, least of all with the Chevalier de St. Amant.
The young man had mounted. “I am very sorry,” he said, “that I cannot offer to accompany you, but the King’s orders were urgent and I am already late. Good-night, Vicomte.”
André bowed stiffly.
“If I might suggest,” the Chevalier added in the friendliest way, “it would be well to say nothing of this damnable business until the King has been informed in the morning.”
“I thank you,” André replied coldly. “I had already intended to wait until His Majesty had heard the story from your lips.”
“Good. I shall be back at dawn.” The Chevalier spurred away.