'It is the Chevalier! It is Monsieur d'Auriac! Idiot, turkey, pig that I am to have kept my eyes shut and not recognised you. Monsieur, do you not know me--Nicholas--your sergeant, whom you saved from the rope?' 'Where you appear likely to go again, Nicholas; but what are you skulking about here for?' The wood in the fireplace blazed up as I spoke, and I saw Nicholas shift uneasily and look at the girl, who had moved to his side, and stood with her hands holding on to his cloak. 'This place was my home once, monsieur,' he said bitterly, 'and I have come back to it.' 'I see you have, sergeant; but why in this way?' 'Monsieur, I was driven to straits and did a thing. Then they hunted me from Dreux to Rouvres, from Rouvres to Anet----' 'Where you appear to have made free with the duke's cellar, eh?' 'It is not so, monsieur,' burst in the girl; 'neither he nor we have done that. The wine you have drunk was a gift from madame the duchess.' There was truth in every line of her features, in the fierce little gesture with which she turned upon me in defence of her lover. I was sorry to let my tongue bite so hard, and said so, and went on with my inquiries. 'And from Anet you came here?' 'It is but a stone-throw,' Nicholas answered, 'and I had a business in hand. After which we were going away.' Whilst he was speaking Marie lit a lantern, and I saw that my ex-sergeant was evidently in the lowest water. He had been a smart soldier, but was now unkempt and dirty, and his eye had the shifty look of a hunted animal. He wore a rusty corselet and a rustier chain cap on his head, drawn over a bandage that covered his ears. As my eye fell on the bandage I called to mind the mutilation that had been inflicted on him, a brand that had cast him out of the pale of all honest men. Nicholas watched my glance, and ground his teeth with rage. 'I will kill him,' he hissed, 'kill him like the dog he is. Monsieur, that was my business!' 'Then de Gomeron----' 'Is but an hour's ride away, monsieur--at Anet.' 'At Anet! What does he do there?' 'Monsieur,' he answered hoarsely, taking me by the sleeve of my doublet, 'I know not; but a fortnight ago he came here with a score of lances at his back and the King's commission in his pocket, and he lords it as if he were the duke himself. Yesterday a great noble came up from the Blaisois, and another whose name I know not has come from Paris; and they hatch treason against the King. Monsieur, I can prove this. You saved my life once, and, beast as I am now, I am still grateful. Come with me. I will settle my score with him; and to-morrow you can bear news to the court that will make you a great man.'