And my lady's cheek flushed fire. But her form straightened up, and her eyes met his unflinching, without guilt or fear. The Chevalier turned and caught sight of Jacques, for the lout, according to his story, had grown to the spot as firm as one of the oaks. "Here, you fellow, come here, _come here_!" And Jacques dared not disobey him. "Here, fellow, how many notes like this have you brought to my wife?" "Only that one, my lord." Jacques started in by telling the truth, and he followed it up religiously. According to his account of it, the Chevalier looked him straight through and through until he dared not tell a lie. "Mind that you tell me the truth. Who gave you this note?" "Captain de Mouret." "When?" "Last night." "Where?" "At his quarters." "To whom did he say you should deliver it?" "To Madame Agnes de la Mora." The Chevalier stooped, picked up the envelope, and re-read the superscription, handing it over to my lady, who took it unseeing. "Did he expect a reply?" "Yes, my lord." "And where did he say to bring it?" "Bring it to him when he returned from across the Bay this afternoon. I was to await him upon the shore." "At what hour?" "None was named, my Lord; he said it would be late, perchance." Verily, as Jacques told it me, he must have drained the stupid fellow dry. Then the Chevalier turned to my lady with the utmost courtesy: "What say you, Madame, shall I bear your reply to this gentle captain? For by my faith, Madame, you require a more careful go-between than this, one more discreet and less glib of tongue." "Charles, upon my honor, I know nothing of all this; I have never seen this Captain de Mouret." He looked as if he did not hear her. He glanced at the sun, full two hours high, drew his sword and started to leave the garden. He paused to doff his cap, and say, "I bear your message for you, Madame; verily, I am honored." My lady neither screamed nor fainted during his questioning of Jacques; she stood and listened as one dazed, or who but dimly understood. The Chevalier strode out sword in hand. "For shame, Charles," she called to him calmly enough, though she was deadly pale, "here is some wretched mistake--" "Yes, there does appear to have been a mistake--in the delivery of this precious billet. I will speedily make that right." "Charles, Charles!" He turned. Her bearing was full as proud as his. He looked from the woman to the paper in his hand. "Well, if you know not this man, then he has wantonly insulted you. I shall await this Captain de Mouret by the water, and there I shall know the truth. He shall explain what means this pretty letter to my wife."