THE vesper bell of a near-by priory waked me out of my thoughts. I remembered with a start that the business which had brought me to Montauban was as yet undone, and I hastened my steps towards the hotel of the Comte de Cadillac, which stood, as I very well knew, on the right bank of the Tarn, as one approaches it from the south along the Rue du Midi. It was not till then that the increasing cold of evening drew my attention to the fact that I no longer had my cloak about me, and I remembered that I had not thought to pick it up again as I passed the place where I had dropped it, so absorbed had I been in my companion. I reflected with satisfaction that I had chosen an old one in which to make this journey, not only that I might be the less an object of notice, but also because I did not know to what vicissitude of weather I might be subjected ere I was back again beside the fire at Marsan. Night had settled upon the town before I reached the Rue du Midi and turned up towards the river, but I did not slacken my pace until I saw gleaming before me the great torches which at night-time always flamed on either side the wide gate to the Hotel de Cadillac. Far in the distance, beyond the high-arched bridge which spans the river, I could catch the glitter of light about the great château of my master’s friend and ally, M. le Comte de Toulouse; and away, on either side, the warm lights of the town; but I paused for only a glance at them as I turned towards the gate before me. There was the usual crowd of lacqueys and men-at-arms loitering about it, and I made my way through them without hinderance, across the inner court, and up the steps to the great doorway. Here a sentry stopped me. “I wish to see M. le Comte,” I said. “I have an urgent message for him from Marsan.” The fellow looked me over for a moment, plainly little impressed by my appearance. “Very well, Monsieur,” he said at last. “Come with me.” Midway of the hall a group had gathered about a man who was talking excitedly, and from the faces of his listeners I judged it to be no ordinary bit of gossip he was imparting. I caught a few words as we made a way through the crowd. “It is most curious,” the speaker was saying. “No one can imagine how it occurred.” “What is it?” I asked my guide when once we were past the crowd. “What has happened?” But he merely shook his head, as though it were not his business nor mine, and kept on without replying. I promised myself that I would some day repay him twice over for his insolence. The blood is warm at twenty! He turned to the right through an open doorway and stopped before a man who was walking soberly up and down, his chin in his hand, his brows knitted. “M. d’Aurilly,” he said, “here is a youngster who says he has a message for M. le Comte.” My cheeks flushed at his tone, and I bit my lips to keep back the retort which would have burst from them. D’Aurilly stopped abruptly in his walk and looked at me.