“D’Aurilly has been good enough to represent me in Cadillac’s household, not caring, at first, to trust me to secure for him that black-eyed Valérie, but preferring to rely on his own charms. Well, it appears his charms had no great effect, so, in the end, he was glad to come to me for aid,” and Roquefort looked at his companion with just a spark of malice in his eyes. “It was not until he had managed to join my troop in that brush at Cadillac that I learned the truth--that we have a spy and traitor amongst us. I had suspected it before, when my plans had come to naught, but proof was always lacking. Well, Monsieur, I desire the name of that traitor.” On that point, at least, I could answer fully. “M. le Duc,” I said, “I do not know his name. I do not even know his appearance. I know only that one night a man rode into Marsan carrying a message which he gave to my father, who, in turn, entrusted it to me. I saw the man but a moment; it was night, and his face was so well concealed that I caught but a glimpse of it.” Roquefort was glaring down at me, his mouth working. “Doubtless the person who cut your bonds the other night was also invisible!” he cried. “Or did you, by any chance, see his face, M. de Marsan?” My blood leaped back into my heart. I looked into his eyes horrified--seeing myself at the edge of a precipice. “Well, Monsieur,” said Roquefort after a moment, “I await an answer. Come, your tongue is not so ready.” The sweat broke out across my forehead as I stood there looking at him. I thought bitterly of the hopes that had sat on my saddle-bow as I rode out from Montauban--it seemed hard that they should end like this. But if Fate willed it--what then? Certainly, I had done my best. “M. le Duc,” I answered, with what calmness I could, “I have nothing more to say.” His face turned purple and his eyes became two sparks of fire, miniaturing the torches which blazed behind him, yet his voice was calm. “Remember my warning, Monsieur,” he said. “I am not a man who breaks his word. Either you must be stretched yonder in a moment--or this spy. I swear it! I have suffered too much from him to pass it by. There is no other way--even your Gascon wits cannot devise one.” I looked from him to d’Aurilly and back again. There was no mercy in either countenance--only d’Aurilly exulted openly. And the thought came to me that I might yet save Mademoiselle from the fate that threatened her and win for myself an easy death. There was no time to hesitate. Perhaps he saw me gather for the spring or read my thought in my eyes, for he gave a little cry and started from his chair even as my foot was on the first step of the platform. But I was on him before he could get his poniard out--my fingers clutched at his throat with all the frenzied eagerness of hate--and we crashed backward over the chair together.