"Saints have mercy on a fool!" he said, flinging the door wide. "Come in, Monseigneur, come in! How was I to guess it was your Excellency at so late an hour? There are half a dozen louts drinking in the kitchen, some of them not too sober--we must live as we may these times. Shall I turn them out?" "No, but prepare supper while we see to the horses, then make our rooms ready. But the good-man of Tours, what of him?" "Certainly, your Excellency, in the morning; I shall see to that. To-night he is----" But I remembered Commines' advice, and cut him short; besides, it was long past our usual hour for the meal, and we were half-starved. "Is that your business? Bring supper." "Again, certainly, Monseigneur, and a good one, though all Ouzay be scoured for it." Nor, when it came, had we any cause to complain. What profession, beyond that of spy and jackal to the sick Lion of Plessis, the good-man of Tours followed I do not know, but at least he was diligent in his master's service. Before seven in the morning there was a knocking at our door, and when Martin slipped the bolt a fellow in peasant's dress entered, closing the door carefully behind him. "Monsieur de Helville?" he said, looking from one to the other, but speaking not at all in a peasant's voice. "I am de Helville." "And I the good-man of Tours--or his shadow. Here are your orders. Go to the Red Cock in Poictiers, and ask the landlord the same question you asked last night, saying neither more nor less." He had kept his hand on the latch while he spoke, and as he ended he opened the door and was gone before we could put in a word. Martin was for running after him, but I forbade it. "To what purpose? We know as much as the King wants us to know. That masquerading peasant could tell us nothing more. It's my belief that, except Louis himself, not a man in France, not even either Monsieur de Commines or the Chancellor, knows the route we are to follow or the business we travel on." "But, Monsieur Gaspard, why such caution?" "For this reason, my friend; if we bungle our commission, the King can say, 'I never knew you,' and so leave us to our fate as wandering vagabonds." As it was at Ouzay, so it was at Poictiers and for the rest of our journey. Poictiers sent us to Ruffec, Ruffec to Marthon, Marthon to Saint Gatien, Saint Gatien to Le Catelet, Le Catelet to Gabarnet, Gabarnet to Orthez, Orthez to La Voulle. Everywhere there was the same question, everywhere the same obsequious, frightened deference, with none seeing further into the King's purpose than the next post. Once our instructions came by way of a woman, and once through the inn-keeper himself. This last was at The Good Queen in La Voulle, and there, for the first time, our orders varied. "I am to tell you this," said he. "What you seek is at Morsigny. When you have found it, ride back here with all speed, and then, but not till then, open the sealed letter."