“I see,” Achon continued, “you are sensible. You and Marcilly are going to Orleans. I could make sure that you did go to Orleans, but I will take a risk--I will let you go on one condition.” There was all our game at stake. A false move now and nothing could save us. The cards were decidedly with the Bishop. “The condition?” “A very simple one--merely that you present yourself to me, in the castle at Orleans at noon, five days hence, and there, in the presence of Lorraine and the Chancellor, repeat what Ponthieu told you.” “It is impossible--it would be too dishonorable.” “I will put it another way--I will repeat what Ponthieu told you, and I will ask you to bear witness to my truth. Do you agree?” “If I refuse?” “The _cachots_--and the rack. Both you and Marcilly.” There was, truly enough, little choice in the matter, and in five days many things might happen. I could have slain him where he was, but to what purpose? I watched him as he stood, a whistle to his lips. “Very well, monseigneur--I agree.” “I have the word of Vibrac?” I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak. “That is right. The _cachots_ are uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as the Chausse d’Hypocras of the Châtelet, where your friend the Vidame is, though they say he has been moved to the Tournelles.” “One word, monseigneur! Ponthieu--he is my friend----” He held up his jewelled hand. “Enough, monsieur! I did not come here to discuss Ponthieu. He is safe, and beware of any attempt at rescue. As for his skin, it rests with himself to keep it, as it rests with you to keep yours. One thing yet, ere I go, de Vibrac, and I tell you this because you are not quite like other men, and you have interested me. We have met before, though you do not recall it. But I know you--you have trouble there,” and he touched me over the heart, and looked me in the face with keen, searching eyes as he went on: “When you have done with me at Orleans, go back and grow cabbages at Vibrac for the rest of your life. You will be a happier man.” He paused, and then continued: “You start with the dawn. I wish you good fortune, and dispense with the blessing, for you are a heretic--and forget not--I can break you with a turn of my little finger.” He turned and went. Outside in the hall I heard the shuffling of feet, and then all was silence. CHAPTER VIII AT THE SIGN OF THE GREEN MAN