’Tis true, Drouet relaxed a little as we journeyed forward and exchanged a word with me now and then, pointing out the features of the country through which we rode or telling some little story of his numberless campaigns with Roquefort. Gruesome stories they were, most of them, of murder, outrage, robbery, for Roquefort’s men were not troubled by nice consciences and took, without questioning, all that came to their nets. Nor did their leader concern himself about them, so they went willingly on his business and fought his battles for him. At noon of the third day we came to Marleon. “You were asking about the castle,” said Drouet suddenly. “Behold it.” I looked with all my eyes, but saw only the tumbled roofs of the little town. “You look too low,” he said. “Higher, on the cliff behind the town.” Then I descried it, and my heart grew cold as I looked at it. Two hundred feet or more the cliff sprang upward, straight as a house’s wall and near as smooth--so smooth that no tree nor shrub caught foothold on it. And just at the summit stood the castle, frowning down upon the village like some tireless, merciless watch-dog. “But to get to it,” I ventured, after a moment. “It seems to have been built only for the birds.” “You will see,” and Drouet laughed meaningly. “I advise you to look well at the way, Monsieur; you may never have occasion to use it a second time.” I rode on without replying. What good to bandy words with this scoundrel? But as we drew nearer to the place my heart fell more and more. It might defy the king’s army. The road turned abruptly to the right of the town, and then in again behind a little spur of the mountain. Here the ascent began, and the way at once became so narrow that two horses could not go abreast. On either hand towered the crags, whence a dozen ambushed men might easily pick off a thousand. In and out the path wound and ever upward, until, at last, it stopped before a great gate, barred heavily with iron. I saw how adroitly the path was fashioned, so that not more than two men at a time could approach the gate. A horn sounded, our force was evidently scrutinized with care from within, and then the gate creaked back upon its hinges. In a moment we were in the court, and the word was given to dismount. “Follow me, Monsieur,” said Drouet, without giving me a moment to look about me or to exchange a glance with my friends. “We have an apartment awaiting you.”