It was too late to turn back, however, and I went about my preparations, if with little cheerfulness, at least with steadfast purpose. I had my sword ground and my pistols put in order by the cutler over whom I lodged, and who performed this last office for me with the same goodwill which had characterised, all his dealings with me. I sought out and hired a couple of stout fellows whom I believed to be indifferently honest, but who possessed the advantage of having horses; and besides bought two led horses myself for mademoiselle and her woman. Such other equipments as were absolutely necessary I purchased, reducing my stock of money in this way to two hundred and ten crowns. How to dispose of this sum so that it might be safe and yet at my command was a question which greatly exercised me. In the end I had recourse to my friend the cutler, who suggested hiding a hundred crowns of it in my cap, and deftly contrived a place for the purpose. This, the cap being lined with steel, was a matter of no great difficulty. A second hundred I sewed up in the stuffing of my saddle, placing the remainder in my pouch for present necessities. A small rain was falling in the streets when, a little after noon, I started with my two knaves behind me and made for the north gate. So many were moving this way and the other that we passed unnoticed, and might have done so had we numbered six swords instead of three. When we reached the rendezvous, a mile beyond the gate, we found Fresnoy already there, taking shelter in the lee of a big holly-tree. He had four horsemen with him, and on our appearance rode forward to meet us, crying heartily, ‘Welcome, M. le Capitaine!’ ‘Welcome, certainly,’ I answered, pulling the Cid up sharply, and holding off from him. ‘But who are these, M. Fresnoy?’ and I pointed with my riding-cane to his four companions. He tried to pass the matter off with a laugh. ‘Oh! these?’ he said. ‘That is soon explained. The Evangelists would not be divided, so I brought them all--Matthew Mark, Luke, and John--thinking it likely you might fail to secure your men. And I will warrant them for four as gallant boys as you will ever find behind you!’ They were certainly four as arrant ruffians as I had ever seen before me, and I saw I must not hesitate. ‘Two or none, M. Fresnoy,’ I said firmly. ‘I gave you a commission for two, and two I will take--Matthew and Mark, or Luke and John, as you please.’ ‘’Tis a pity to break the party,’ said he, scowling. ‘If that be all,’ I retorted, ‘one of my men is called John. And we will dub the other Luke, if that will mend the matter.’ ‘The Prince of Conde,’ he muttered sullenly, ‘employed these men.’ ‘The Prince of Conde employed some queer people sometimes, M. Fresnoy,’ I answered, looking him straight between the eyes, ‘as we all must. A truce to this, if you please. We will take Matthew and Mark. The other two be good enough to dismiss.’