“Not so loud, father. I know of his arrest and am even now engaged in the task of procuring his release.” It was a clever lie and seemed to impose on the monk. “Good,” he said. “Lead me where I can write. Life and death depend on your good faith.” “Follow me,” said Dauban, and led the way to de Proballe’s apartments. On the way they chanced to meet Lucette, who looked at the pair with curious eyes. Wondering what Dauban could be doing in such company, she followed at a distance and resolved to watch. “Are we alone here?” asked Pascal. “Quite. You need have no fear on that score.” “Those doors--are they locked? If not, lock them and bring the keys here.” All unsuspecting and wishing to win his companion’s confidence, Dauban did so and laid the keys on the table before him. As if still doubting, Pascal glanced round the room for himself, taking advantage of the minute to loose his habit stealthily. “Paper, monsieur,” he said, and while Dauban’s back was toward him he slipped off his habit and laughed. At his laugh Dauban turned, and the colour fled from his face in the fright of the recognition. “Now, Master Spy, we will have a little talk and an understanding,” said Pascal. “Sit down there,” pointing to a seat, “and if you give but one faint sign of resistance, I’ll first break half the bones in your body up here, and then pitch you from the casement yonder for the courtyard stones to break the other half.” The spy sat staring open-eyed and agape at him, cursing himself for his blindness in not having recognized Pascal; and cudgelling his wits how to get out of the trap into which he had walked, and in abject fear for himself. “You thought to trap me, Master Spy, and instead I’ve trapped you. Now understand, I’m in too dangerous a mood to bear any trifling and am in desperate haste. Do all I tell you and do it at once, and answer my questions plainly, and you’ll save your life; but try to fool me and--well, I’ve told you what I’ll do, and I’m a man of my word.” “I’ve no desire----” “Silence, till I bid you speak. This is your master’s room and you are in his confidence. You know the part he has played in all this business about M. de Cobalt. Find at once and give to me every paper that concerns it.” “I know nothing, monsieur, I swear; and there are no papers. I’ll swear it on the holy crucifix.” “If you keep me dallying in this way the next oath you take about it will be in hell,” growled Pascal sternly. “I declare on my soul----” But before he could say more Pascal had him by the throat and shook him till his teeth rattled and the stars came out in myriads in the firmament of his dazed sight. “Now perhaps you’re frightened enough to tell the truth,” he cried, with a fierce oath, as he flung him back on the seat. The spy fell doubled up against the table and as Pascal jerked him up again he heard the crackle of papers under his doublet.