It was not easy on ordinary occasions to take Chavigni by surprise, and he was always prepared to repel open attack, or to parry indirect questions, with that unhesitating boldness, or skilful evasion, the proper application of which is but one of the lesser arts of diplomacy; but on the present occasion, the King's question was not only so unexpected as nearly to overcome his habitual command of countenance, but was also uttered in such a tone as to leave him in doubt whether Louis's suspicions were directed personally towards himself. He replied, however, without hesitation: "I believe it was the wood of Mantes, Sire; but I am not perfectly sure." "You, of all men, ought to be well informed on that point, Monsieur de Chavigni," rejoined the King, "since you took care to send a servant to see it rightly done." The matter was now beyond a doubt, and Chavigni replied boldly: "Your Majesty is pleased to speak in riddles, which I am really at a loss to comprehend." "Well, well, Sir," said Louis hastily, "it shall be inquired into, and made plain both to you and me. Any thing that is done legally must not be too strictly noticed; but I will not see the laws broken, and murder attempted, even to serve State purposes." Thus speaking, the King put his horse into a quicker pace, and Chavigni followed with his mind not a little discomposed, though his countenance offered not the slightest trace of embarrassment. How he was to act, now became the question; and running over in his own mind all the circumstances connected with the attack upon the Count de Blenau, he could see no other means by which Louis could have become acquainted with his participation therein, than by the loquacity of Philip, the woodman of Mantes: and as he came to this conclusion, Chavigni internally cursed that confident security which had made him reject the advice of Lafemas, when the sharp-witted Judge had counselled him to arrest Philip on first discovering that he had remarked the livery of Isabel and silver amongst the robbers.