“God grant that we succeed! Arthur knows that I am near, and he will be in readiness for instant flight. This is the surety of it,” said Alan, pressing Arthur’s handkerchief to his lips. “Farewell, brave youth,” said Abraham. “Do what your heart prompts. A truer one never beat under the sun. I shall leave Rouen early to-morrow morning and return to Paris that suspicion may not fall upon me and my people should your undertaking be discovered.” They parted, and Alan returned to the vessel. His route led him past the ancient tower, which was not so quiet and dark as usual. Torches illuminated the gate and battlements, and lights shone in the windows; for King John had arrived, and the din of his soldiery could be heard even through the thick walls. Chapter XX On the Seine The report of the King’s approaching departure had attracted a great throng of spectators to the bank of the Seine, opposite the tower. They were curious to see the King, but more eager to see the Duke of Brittany, whose name was heard on every side. Vessels of moderate size could come close up to the gates on the water side, which closed the entrance to the tower. Two boats were in waiting some distance off. The smaller was fully manned, and loaded with chests and bales, ready for departure. The deck of the larger, which floated the royal ensign, was empty, the crew being below. It was late when the signal for leaving was given. The gates were opened, torch-bearers advanced and lighted the stairs, which were flanked by two rows of halberdiers. Between them, knights, soldiers, and nobles, with the Duke in their midst, descended. Arthur stopped upon the stair an instant, looking about as if in search of some one, but he was quickly forced along to the gangway leading from the stairs to the boat. He and his guards had hardly stepped aboard when the King’s approach was announced. John immediately appeared, mounted the deck, and disappeared below. The rowers struck out, the sails filled, and the vessel moved to the middle of the stream. The boat with the baggage followed a little distance away from it. A dark figure rose from time to time in the bows, eagerly scrutinizing the King’s vessel. It was Alan in sailor’s dress, on the lookout for Arthur. The deck of the other vessel, however, remained empty for some time. It gleamed white in the light of the rising moon; its masts and sails were sharply outlined against the clear night sky, and only the monotonous plash of oars broke the stillness. [Illustration: _The assassination of Arthur_]