I made up my mind to go a step farther than La Marmotte's suggestion, and as the chances of discovery were equal whether I remained in the outer room or here I decided to stay where I was. Between the wall and one of the projecting bookshelves there was space sufficient for a man to stand perfectly concealed, unless anyone chose to come round the bookcase. Here, then, I took up my position, trusting much to luck, as one has to do in a desperate enterprise, and relying on the chance that De Mouchy would never suspect that anyone would dare to act as I was doing in broad daylight, for it was not much beyond five o'clock in the afternoon. I had not long to wait. Presently I heard a scratching at a door opposite to that by which I had entered the room. There was a murmured word or so, then the door opened, and Dom Antoine de Mouchy stepped in, bearing in his arms an immense black cat. Where the afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the carved chest he placed the beast, stroking its back once or twice, and then turned, and stood for a moment facing his table. As he stood there, in the black robes and skull-cap of a doctor of the Sorbonne, I took careful stock of him, for it was he who, years past, had doomed me to a frightful death, and who had shared with Simon and Diane de Poitiers the remains of my property. He was past middle life, with a frame yet strong and vigorous. Cruelty and avarice had set their seals on his broad face. His cheek-bones were high as those of a Tartar, and the small and sunken eyes had a restless, savage look in them--the look of a tiger; and no tiger ever thirsted for blood more ferociously than Dom Antoine de Mouchy, Doctor of the Sorbonne, and President of the Chambre Ardente, thirsted for the blood of his fellow-creatures. Twice he glanced around him, and then sitting at his table was soon busily employed in jotting down something on his tablets. After a while he stopped, and some thought moved him to silent laughter. Leaning back he let his glance travel round the room, and then arrested it once more on his tablets. "Ha, ha!" he laughed out loudly this time, "this is a rare dish of fried fish! Prick up your ears, Titi!" And reaching out a long arm he stroked the fur of the huge cat that sat crouched on the coffer, an occasional shiver running through its body. It was old, very old, as I could see. At De Mouchy's voice and the touch of his hand the creature rose slowly, turned upon Dom Antoine a pair of green eyes from which the sight had long since fled, and hissed like an angry snake. De Mouchy laughed again as he went on: "You agree--eh? Well, listen to the names--Huguenots--Christaudins--Spawn of Geneva--whose bodies shall perish as their souls, and whose goods shall come to the righteous--that is, to me, Titi."