“The villain’s gone,” I remarked. “Why do you call him a villain?” De Marsac came back at me with his soft sneer. “Because, Sieur De Marsac,” said I with more boldness than caution, “he tried to take my life.” De Marsac whistled. “And he failed?” he said. His voice flattened as though it was a thing he regretted. Then he came close to me. “Do you know, Henri,” he continued in the same slow tone, “any of us might be killed without a moment’s warning. There is a man following me at this very minute who is thirsting for my life.” “It might be the same fellow,” I suggested craftily. “No,” he said, “your fellow is an ordinary lout—stupid. He has made a mess of his work. The man who is following me is far deadlier. He never misses—and never fails.” I drew cautiously away, for De Marsac’s words and the snake-like subtlety of them threw me on my guard. “What do you mean,” said I, “when you say that ‘he has made a mess of his work’? Is it your opinion that I really ought to have been killed?” His eyes sharpened. Like a man ready to strike a blow his face grew red with anger and he shifted forward. “You are a smart lad, Henri,” he said drawing his eyes together till they were almost closed, “but you should be taught to speak more respectfully to your betters.” I hardly knew what to say. There was no good in the man. He was underhand in his actions. He had something up his sleeve that he was going to have out with me. It struck me that the sooner it was over the better. “You are not plain enough, Sieur De Marsac,” I said, “for me to answer you.” Then rashness got the upper hand of me and I burst out, “Why did you follow me this morning, anyway?” He only stood glaring at me. His lips tightened. A wicked glint gathered in his eyes and he stepped in towards me. I was now truly alarmed. I looked from one side of me to the other for a way of escape. I saw him finger at his belt for his dagger. His answer came like a thunderbolt. “—to finish the bungling of last night!” he hissed. I was entirely on the defensive for I had no weapons. As he reached out to grasp me, I sprang to one side. Then I turned to run for it. We were somewhat aside of the path and the underbrush was matted and tangled. I made a leap, thinking to get as far from him as possible. My foot caught in a weed or trailing vine which held it as though it were tied there. In the next second my legs were knocked from under me. I fell forward on my hands and face. Then I got another jolt as though someone were thumping me on the side and shoulders with a heavy log. I could not see, for the undergrowth was sharp and I was forced to close my eyes. A deep grunt and a squeal started near me. A brushing of the weeds and vines followed. Terror crept into my soul for I realized that it was an animal which I had startled and disturbed.