"This," said the coachman to the footman, "is the spot," while the servitor who was behind noticed that the speaker crossed himself. "_Bon Dieu!_" the man went on, "what a place for a love tryst, an elopement." "'Twill serve," the other fellow said; "and he in there wants neither De Beaurepaire nor us yet." "And never will, _Dieu le plaise_," the trembling coachman said, since the man who inhabited this house was the executioner. Then, the carriage, which had gradually drawn into the deepest shadow of the wall came to a stop, and, from out that shadow, there stepped forth a man. A man who, advancing to the door of the vehicle, opened it and said:-- "So! you are here. Both. And, for the third--Humphrey West?" "He is here, Monsieur le Chevalier," the supposed servitor behind replied, jumping down from the banquette. "Here." "And you, my noble and illustrious friends," the Prince said, glancing up at the coachman and footman, "my noble friends of the tripot and the gargote; how fares it with you? _Cadédis!_ the ride you have before you will wash all the fumes of Van den Enden's poisoned wine out of you. When you return to Paris with your pockets stuffed full of pistoles your mothers will not know you." "Now," ignoring the answers which the two men on the box growled back; men who were, in truth, Fleur de Mai and Boisfleury. "Now, all is arranged. You, Madame la Duchesse," addressing the handsome young gallant who had hitherto been termed M. le Vicomte, "will ride through the gate by my side. You, Mademoiselle d'Angelis, will ride with the faithful Humphrey. While as for you," looking up at the men above, "you will follow close behind." As thus De Beaurepaire spoke, from behind where Paris lay there fell upon the ears of those assembled near the gatehouse the sounds of a horse's hoofs, of a horse in full gallop, while, to them, were added the jangle of bridle and bridoon as well as another sound which told of a sword clanking against stirrup and spur in accompaniment with the action of the horse's body. "Are we pursued?" asked Fleur de Mai, his big hand ready to draw his weapon from its sheath. "If so, one thrust through the horse and then another through the rider and, lo! there is no further pursuit," and he laughed, indeed gurgled, deep down in his chest. "If it should be my husband or one of his menials!" the Duchess murmured fearfully. "Tush!" exclaimed De Beaurepaire, "there is but one, and we are four. While if the rider is soldier, gendarme, or police spy, he takes his orders from me. What have we to fear therefore?" Suddenly, however, he gave a laugh and said, "Listen. Hark to him how he sings as he rides along. 'Tis La Truaumont who has drunk his last cup in Paris quicker than one might have deemed, and has caught us on the road sooner than I, who know him well, could have expected."