I asked him then who was this Monsieur de Lameray that the King had dispatched to the château, and he said he had never heard the man’s name; but encountering Jean Prévost as we sauntered forth from his lodging, we put the question to him, and he told us that the Baron de Lameray had lately come into the camp and offered his sword to the King, with three score gentlemen well mounted and equipped. He had been a Leaguer, but it was no more uncommon then than now for warriors to shift their allegiance, and Henry, who dearly loved a good sword, had welcomed right heartily this notable accession to his party, and smiled upon him so graciously that certain of his well-tried servants were displeased thereat. Whereupon Raoul shrugged again, complaining of the fickleness of kings’ favour. *II* On the night of that day, I rode with Raoul and a dozen more to the lodging of the Marquis de Contades in Dieppe, he having bidden us to supper and a game of tric-trac. The company was very merry, but I was aweary with having been up all the night before, and what with our host’s good cheer and the heaviness of the air I could scarce keep my eyes open. Ever and anon I wandered to the window to cool myself, wishing with all my heart that the company would break up, whereof I had little hope, such jovial entertainments being commonly prolonged far towards morning. Looking forth one time into the silent and empty street, I saw a shadow move in a doorway on the further side, and felt a passing wonder as to who might be lurking there so late, concluding that ’twas some poor townsman on the lookout to earn a few doits by holding a stirrup or some such petty service. When I returned into the room the marquis rallied me on my air of weariness, and on my telling him that I had been long without sleep, he was pleased to admit my excuses, and bade me get away to my bed. I went down the stairs very gladly, to walk to the inn where I had left my horse and my servant, and had taken a pace or two before I remembered the shadow in the doorway. I looked up then to see whether the man was still there, and in that very moment a figure sprang at me out of the dark entry, and I saw in the starlight a long dagger uplifted against the sky. I had no time to draw my own weapon, but my lucky remembrance of the man having saved me from being taken wholly by surprise, I dropped suddenly to the ground, and my assailant stumbled over me in the vehemence of his onset. Before he could recover his footing I was upon him, but could do no more than grip his right arm, and we fell together. There we were, rolling over and over, and in the heat and fury of the struggle I heard the footsteps of other men on the cobbles, and a voice asking in a hoarse and breathless whisper which was the Englishman, and another answer: "’Tis no matter; the fool has botched it; strike anywhere!" and then the man I was