Château-Foix told him, while the trembling girl implored them to be quick. “Oh, let us leave by all means,” observed the Vicomte when Gilbert finished. “Can we get at our _ci-devant_ horses; they might go faster than we can walk.” “Here is the stable key,” put in their protectress. “There is no one about at the back, and a lane leads from the yard. I will help you saddle the horses.” “And the Englishman?” asked Louis, getting to his feet. “Has no one warned him?” “We cannot very well leave him,” said Château-Foix. “Still——” “Oh, we will give him a chance,” said Louis cheerfully. “He is a good fellow; perhaps he will tip me again. Just help me into my coat, Gilbert, and while Mademoiselle and you get the horses ready, I will go to the milord’s room.” As Louis in his disabled state could be of little use in the stable-yard, Gilbert reluctantly consented to this plan, and as silently as they could the three stole down the creaking staircase. So it befell that Harry Trenchard was roused from a deep though troubled slumber by a hand which vigorously shook his shoulder, and by a low voice adjuring him in English instantly to get up. As his eyes blinked in the sudden candle-light he pushed his hand quickly under the pillow. “That is useless,” said the voice. “I took it away before I woke you. I am the man who held your horse, and I have come to tell you that you and I and my cousin are in danger of being murdered.” Trenchard lay for a full ten seconds and stared at his midnight visitor without speaking. Possibly his survey convinced him, for at the end of that time he said slowly: “Then I will get up.” “Pray do, and be very quick and quiet,” said Louis, seating himself on the bed. “_Are_ you a spy of Pitt’s?” “Oho! is that the game!” exclaimed Trenchard as he got out of bed. “No, I am not. And—imagine your speaking English!—why should we be murdered together?” Louis told him, very laconically, while Trenchard hurried on a portion of his clothing. “Then you are a proscribed aristocrat?” he asked, surveying the shabby figure with interest. “So they suppose,” returned Louis with composure. “Are you nearly ready, because we cannot wait much longer.” Trenchard finished buttoning his waistcoat before replying. “I am not sure that I shall come,” he said suddenly. “Why should I run away from these rapscallions? I would rather see it out.” Louis got off the bed and scanned him with a glance between amusement and annoyance. “Very well, milord,” he said. “Here is your pistol. Perhaps, then, one of us may have your horse?” “Confound you!” said the traveller, rather angry. “Why should you take me for a fool? Why don’t you stop too?” “Because the next knife I have into me may go further than the last,” returned Saint-Ermay with meaning. “However, it is nothing to me whether you come or no. I have warned you.”