"What!" came in a loud, bullying tone. "The room engaged? Nonsense! Who are they! What are they doing here?"

"French gentlemen, Sir Robert."

"French dancing masters, I suppose, come to teach the Court lads minuets; and are they to keep English gentlemen waiting outside because, forsooth, they have engaged the public room? Come in, boys. Here, landlord; a stoup of wine. I'm thirsty. Frenchmen! Why, we can make them dance!"

There was a thump struck upon the panel of the door, which flew open, and a big, soldierly-looking man in horseman's boots covered with dust swaggered in, followed by a couple more, who looked, like their leader, hot and dusty, and, judging by their accoutrements, appeared to have just dismounted.

Francis started and frowned as he met the English officer's insulting gaze—insulting, for the stranger gave a contemptuous look around at the assembled party, swaggered forward, unbuckling his belt and throwing it and his sword upon the table with a bang, before dragging forward a chair over the polished floor, raising it a little, and then bringing it heavily down, to throw himself into its seat and then cry:

"Come, boys; the chairs are not all occupied. How long is that fellow going to be with the wine?"

Francis turned pale; Leoni bit his lip, drew closer to him, and whispered softly:

"Pay no heed, M. le Comte;" while Denis and Saint Simon, after gazing fiercely at the new-comers, turned to look at the King as if to signify their readiness, and mutely ask his consent to drive these intruders from the room.

The result of this was that the painful silence was broken by the officer addressed as Sir Robert bursting into another loud insulting laugh. He looked at first one and then at the other of his companions, before doubling his great gloved fist and beginning to make his sword dance upon the table by thumping hard and shouting loudly:

"Now, landlord! Wine—wine—wine!"

"Pay no heed, sir," said Leoni softly. "They are trying to provoke a quarrel, and you cannot stoop."

"What's that, Frenchman? Can't you speak English? None of your miserable monsieuring here! Do you know where you are? In the shadow of the Court of the great King Hal. Here, youngster, what are you doing with that hilt? It isn't a fiddlestick. I didn't know dancing masters carried swords.—Ah, here's the wine. Pour out landlord; and here," he continued, as the host nervously filled the cups he had brought. "Bah! Fool! Into the cups, not all over the table. Your wine is always bad, but sack is too good to polish English oak. Now, boys, here's to—Stop! Let's make this French springald drink King Harry's health. There, boy. Take up that cup."

Leoni stretched out his hand to catch Denis by the arm, but he was too late, for, with his eyes flashing, the boy stepped quickly forward to the table, caught up the cup, and raised it towards his lips.

"Montjoie Saint Denis! God save the King of France!" he cried, and was about to drain the cup, while Leoni uttered an impatient hiss, when the vessel was brutally struck from his hand by the English officer, the wine being scattered about the room, and bringing the King to his feet.

"Insolent!" cried Sir Robert, with his face now crimson, as he too sprang to his feet, and catching up another of the filled cups. "But he shall drink it, boys, or I'll slit his miserable ears. Do you understand plain English, you minuet-dancing puppy?"

"Yes," panted Denis, between his teeth, and never taking his eyes from the Englishman; "every word."

"Ah! That's good. Then take this cup, and down upon your knees and drink King Harry's health, or 'fore Heaven you shall go back to your miserable country marked by an English blade."

There was a momentary pause in the room, every eye being centred upon the boy, fascinated as all were and self-forgetful, as they watched for the outcome of the incident.

They were not kept waiting long, for the fierce look upon the boy's countenance gave place to a pleasant smile which the Englishman did not read as meant mockingly. He stretched out and took the cup, and the bully returned the smile as he gave his companions a quick nod of the head.

"You see, boys," he cried, in his loud bullying voice, "this is the way to teach French monkeys! Now, my mincing young skipjack, God save King Harry!—Malediction!" he roared, as he snatched up his sword, for with a quick motion the boy had emptied the wine-cup full in his face.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

TRAPPED.

At the English captain's action his two companions sprang from their chairs and drew their weapons, for Denis had stepped back with his own blade leaping from its scabbard—a movement followed at once by his three companions, who stood on their defence.

"Now, boys," raged out Sir Robert. "Hah! The window is open. Ready?"

"Yes," came fiercely.

"No deep wounds; but prick and make them dance till they reach the window and leap out. I'll tackle this boy."

The next moment there was the harsh, grating, rasping, hissing sound of steel edge against steel.

"Back, boy!" raged out Francis. "Let me punish this English canaille."

"No, sir," whispered Leoni sharply. "They are three. Let your servants finish this."

"Here's for you!" shouted one of Sir Robert's companions, and they made for the King and his two followers; but they were hindered from crossing swords by Sir Robert, who, stepping back to avoid a sharp thrust delivered by Denis, felt his foot slip upon the wine-moistened polished oaken boards, and in saving himself he came in contact with the table, driving it heavily in his comrades' way, so that the two parties were separated, the centre of the room being taken up by Denis and his adversary.

"The unlucky boy!" muttered the King angrily. "Leoni, he is no match for that English bull."

"No, sir," said the doctor coolly, as he stood watchful with his blade advanced; "but he can fence a little. Give me place, and I'll see that he does not come to harm."

Seeing that their adversaries were disposed to hold their hands until the couple engaged had finished their encounter, Sir Robert's two companions stood waiting for their turn till the unequal match was finished; for unequal it was, Denis being pressed hard in the fierce onslaught made by the strong-armed bully, who kept on thrusting and driving the boy sideways as, lithe and agile, he avoided or parried every thrust. At last his fate seemed sealed, for his arm was growing weak and his defence being beaten down, when with a quick movement and just in the nick of time Leoni made a sudden dart forward and turned aside a very awkward thrust.

"Ah! Coward!" roared the English officer. "Two to one! Here, boys, come on!"

The command was unnecessary, for Leoni's action was imitated at once by Sir Robert's followers, who sprang forward, to have their blades engaged at once by Saint Simon and the King.

Then in a general melee the swords gritted and twined and seemed like flashing serpents in deadly fray, while those who grasped them came in contact with and were hindered by the furniture of the by no means extensive room.

The floor was made slippery by the wine which bedewed the boards, but before the encounter had lasted a minute there were other drops which added to the peril; for Denis's thin blade had passed along the fleshiest part of the English captain's ribs, and raging now with passion and pain as he felt the sting, he fought furiously, forcing Leoni to do more than guard the boy, whose strength was utterly failing; and interposing now, he literally took the Englishman's blade to his own, beat upon it heavily, and the next moment sent it flying through the open window, out of which he was to have been made to jump.

Uttering a yell of fury, Sir Robert snatched the dagger from his waist, and regardless of the danger, sprang with a yell at Denis, when the door was suddenly flung open and an officer of halberdiers stepped in, backed up by about a dozen followers, whose approach had been unheard, while about a score more could be seen forming up through the window, their great steal spears with their battle-axe blades glittering in the ruddy evening sun.

As if moved by one impulse, everyone within the room lowered his blade, while the King, taking in his position at a glance, and placing his own interpretation thereon, ejaculated angrily the one word:

"Trapped!"



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

WHAT DENIS THOUGHT.

"Sir Robert! Gentlemen!" cried the officer in command of the halberdiers. "What does this mean?"

"Can't you see?" growled Sir Robert angrily. "Fighting. Chastising a pack of insolent musicians, dancing masters, or whatever they are, who insulted us."

"It is not true!" cried Denis angrily; and as he spoke Carrbroke, who had received warning from one of the inn servants of the fight that was going on, shouldered his way in through the halberdiers. "These men, whoever they are—they cannot be gentlemen—"

"What!" roared Sir Robert.

"—insulted my master and these members of his suite," continued Denis, gazing defiantly at the English captain. "We were standing on our defence."

"The boy lies," cried Sir Robert.

"No: Sir Robert lies," cried Carrbroke hotly. "Captain Bowman, these gentlemen were my father's guests last night—yes, Sir Robert, my father's guests, and you must have insulted them, or they would not have drawn."

"This is insufferable," cried Sir Robert.

"Yes," said the captain of the escort coldly; "quite; and I am afraid, Sir Robert, that when his Majesty hears of the treatment which his guests, whom I have been ordered to escort into the palace, have received, I shall have another duty to perform."

"What do you mean?" cried Sir Robert insolently.

"Your arrest, sir, and that of your friends. I am afraid his Majesty is getting tired of your brawling and overbearing ways."

"What!" cried Sir Robert fiercely, as he clapped his hand again to the dagger he had sheathed.

"I see you have lost your sword," said the officer contemptuously, "and spared me the trouble of disarming you for drawing within the precincts of the Court. Take my advice, sir—not that of a friend, but of one who has his duty to do towards keeping order here. Take your friends away and consult with them as to what steps you should take before his Majesty hears of this outrage. Monsieur le Comte," he continued, turning to Francis, "in his Majesty's name, let me apologise for what must have been a grievous mistake on the part of one of the King's officers. I am commanded to escort you and your followers into the palace, where his Majesty will receive you at once."

Francis bowed, and the halberdiers formed up ready for the visitors to pass between their ranks, while Leoni, who looked calm and saturnine as ever, bent forward and whispered a word or two to the King.

"My faith, yes!" he cried, and he turned to the Captain of the Guard. "But, as you see, we are travel-stained and hot with this encounter; we ought to have some minutes to prepare."

"His Majesty knows that you have been travelling, sir, and will not notice that you have been making some passes in your defence. My master, sir, is impatient, and as he expects you, if I might advise I would say, let me lead you there at once."

The King bowed and stepped forward directly, closely followed by his suite, and passed out to the front of the hostelry, where a little crowd had gathered, attracted by the exciting incident that had taken place.

The next minute, with about a dozen of the halberdiers to clear the way, the rest behind, the order was loudly given, and the little procession moved towards the great gate of the castle on the hill, the Captain of the Guard marching with drawn sword respectfully by the travellers' side.

Rather breathless still, the King remained silent, while Denis could not refrain from glancing back, to see his late adversary standing at the inn-door in the act of taking a wine-cup from the hands of the host.

The next moment the figures of the halberdiers shut him from sight, while the boy heard his royal master's next words, uttered in a low tone to Leoni.

"It's wonderfully like being prisoners, doctor," he whispered; "and mind this, if we do not get free again you'll have to pay the forfeit. Ah, there you are, my young esquire! I'd half forgotten you. Well and bravely fought. Yesterday, as it were, I looked upon you as a page; you are now my esquire indeed. By my sword, the fighting we have had already on this English soil has made quite a fire-eater of you. Why, Leoni, I feel as ready as can be now to enter into the lion's den. Not get out again! Tchah! With followers like these, who's going to stand against us? Vive la France!"

"Vive la France, Monsieur le Comte," said Leoni, in a low meaning tone. "If I might say so, I should think his Majesty King Francis would feel proud of the bearer of his letter, if he could know how bravely one of his nobles kept up the credit of his court of braves."

"I hope he would, Leoni," said the King, laughing to himself, and he looked sharply upward as the halberdiers' footsteps echoed from the grey stone walls of the arched entrance to the courtyard. "A noble-looking castle. May I ask, monsieur the captain, what building that is to our left—the chapel of the palace?"

"Yes, sir, and the great hall," replied the Captain of the Guard.

Then uttering a sharp order, the advance-guard bore off to the left.

"His Majesty awaits you, sir, in the ante-chamber. We turn in here for your reception in the hall."

"Hah!" said Francis, and he looked at Denis as he spoke. "Well, boy," he said, in a low tone, "are you wondering what Henry of England will think when he sees the Comte?"

"No, sir," replied the boy sharply.

"What then?"

"Will the Comte excuse me saying?" said the boy, turning furiously red.

"No, he will not," said the King sharply. "Out with it at once! What were you thinking?"

The boy hesitated, but the King's eyes were fixed upon him fiercely, and with a desperate effort he blurted out:

"I thought you were playing a very dangerous game."



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A ROYAL WELCOME.

There was plenty of colour and brightness in the group awaiting the coming of Francis and his travel-stained followers. Courtiers stood around with their gay, picturesque garments rendered more striking by the sunset glow, vivified by passing through a stained-glass window which shone down upon the central figure of the group, a big, bluff, rather heavy-faced, typically English yeoman in expression, upon whom Francis fixed his eyes and kept them there as upon the principal picture, all the rest being merely frame.

Irrespective of his position, the visitor would have known him at once from the descriptions he had heard from ambassadors to the English Court of what the English King was like; and forgetful of everything else, all courtly custom, his secret mission, and his assumed character, Francis made a slight obeisance and stepped forward eagerly to greet his brother King.

On the other hand King Henry gazed curiously at his visitor who bore such worthy credentials, and he put out his hand as he stood drawing himself up proudly, expecting to see the Comte sink upon one knee and press it to his lips; but, to his utter astonishment, Francis came close up, apparently not in the slightest degree dazzled or abashed by his magnificence, to stop short when within easy reach, and, instead of sinking down, exclaimed, "Aha! The brave, soldierly King Hal!" clapped both hands upon his brother monarch's shoulders, let them glide quickly onward till they joined behind the King's neck, and the next moment the embrace tightened as he kissed the plump cheeks that were beginning to flame smartly in turn.

"This," he cried, "is a great joy that pays me for my long journey here."

The English King drew back in astonishment, and glanced quickly to right and left of his assembled courtiers, as if asking the meaning of this outrage, this strange conduct so completely in opposition to all Court etiquette.

He was completely stunned for the moment, and his inclination was to exclaim, "Is this man mad?" But as he looked round it was to see face after face expanded or contracted by the mirthful feeling within his followers' breasts, and then rendered grotesque by their owners' efforts to turn solemn and serious once more.

A change came over the King's countenance. It was as a reflection of the smiles upon his courtiers' lips.

"He is a Frenchman," he said to himself, "and does not understand our ways, though I should have thought—" he continued to himself, and then broke off, to follow the example set him by his visitor, and clumsily and with ill grace returned the salute, before bidding him welcome in English, which Francis understood fairly well, turning occasionally to Leoni, who stood close behind him, ready to interpret whenever his master was at fault.

The interview went off very well, for Henry took at once to the bright, vivacious French monarch, finding in him one ready to talk eagerly about his pursuits, the pair being well in accord as to their tastes; and the meeting was nearly brought to an end by the King telling his visitor that the letter from his brother Francis was sufficient to make one of his favourite nobles quite welcome to the hospitality of the English Court.

"Believe me, I am glad to welcome my royal brother's favourite. A suite of apartments will be prepared for you, sir, by my people, and a place on my right hand at my table. Rest assured that your stay shall be made pleasant here."

Francis bowed and smiled, and seemed as if about to supplement his embrace; but the King went on speaking.

"But what is this I hear about an insult offered to one who occupies the position of an ambassador, and whose person should be sacred? I hear, Comte, that you were attacked by one of my officers and his companions, here, close to my palace gates. Is it true?"

Francis shrugged his shoulders nearly to his ears with a half contemptuous smile upon his lips.

"Oh, a mere nothing," he said; "a little sword-play."

"A mere nothing!" cried Henry fiercely. "An insult to one of my guests a mere nothing!"

"Oh, don't speak of it," replied Francis, laughing. "I was not surprised."

"You amaze me, sir!" cried the King.

"Indeed, Sire? Why, we always knew in France that there is nothing an Englishman loves better than to fight. I came to your gates unannounced, and two or three of your bluff soldiers—officers, you say—exclaimed amongst themselves, 'What does this Frenchman here, trying to enter our master's court?' As your defenders, they drew, to try and drive us away. But we would not be driven. Then your gallant escort arrived. They found out the mistake, and it was all at an end. I congratulate you, my—" Francis coughed, as if to get rid of an impediment in his speech, or as if he were suffering from some forgetfulness of the English words he ought to use—"my noble English sovereign, upon having such brave defenders at your gates."

"I thank you, sir," cried Henry. "But this is too much! These soldiery assume more than is their right. I have heard before of this man's brawls. He is a fighter out of employment now, for we are at peace, and I will not have him insult my guests."

"But you will pardon him, Sire?" said Francis. "We were not hurt. Next time we meet, your brave officer will doubtless make amends."

"He must! He shall!" cried Henry hotly. "And—"

"Sire," interrupted Francis, smiling, "I am your visitor. Grant me the first favour that I ask."

"Anything," cried the King, smiling in his turn.

"Then you will forgive this brave man?"

The King bowed.

"I wish you to be perfectly welcome at my Court, Comte; and now you would like to retire to your rooms to rid yourselves of your travel-stains. Later on I look to meet you at my board."

Francis bowed in turn, and drew back, seeing that the audience was at an end, and half turning saw that Denis had approached.

"Yes, boy?" he said.

"The horses, Comte," whispered Denis.

"Ah, to be sure! They must not be left there." And he turned, to catch the King's eye fixed on him searchingly.

"Yes, Comte," he said; "you were about to speak?"

"It is nothing, Sire," replied Francis. "My esquire reminded me that our steeds were at the hostelry, and—"

"Ah, you love horses!" cried the King. "So do I, and the hunt as well. My stables are at your service, and my Master of the Horse will see that they are well bestowed. Once more, sir, the favourite of my brother Francis is welcome here. I look to see you again to-night."



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

DENIS IS SLEEPY.

His Majesty of England was in high good humour that night, since the preparations for the grand reception he had ordered in honour of the ambassador-like visitor from France had been carried out quite to his satisfaction.

There was show, there was music, and there was dancing going on, as he entered the salon from his private rooms and looked round searchingly before turning to speak to his stately chamberlain.

"Our visitor?" he said laconically.

"Fatigued, perhaps, with the journey, Sire. He has not yet arrived."

The King frowned, and his chamberlain raised his eyebrows a little, half expecting to be taken to task for not having the visitor there.

"See that everything is done, Hurst, so that he may go back to my brother of France full of admiration of my Court. We must make him envious," added the King, with a laugh.

At that moment there was a flourish of trumpets, and, escorted by two noblemen of the English Court, Francis, followed by his three gentleman attendants, advanced to meet the King.

Leoni watched his master narrowly as he followed his progress through the brilliant throng of courtiers towards the spot where Henry stood awaiting his coming, and there was but one thought animating his brain— the thought of whether Francis with his impetuous nature would not commit some act in this strangest of all episodes—King meeting King, and one ignorant of the other's real identity—which would enlighten Henry and maybe bring disaster on them all.

"But Henry has never seen our King," he murmured softly to himself. "Why should there be this presagement of harm? He cannot be recognised here, or if any of these gentlemen who have travelled do imagine a resemblance, they will laugh it on one side."

He felt reassured again as he saw Henry advance a step to meet his guest and take his hand with a few words of welcome, ere he pointed to a seat near at hand.

"Our brother of France is indeed fortunate," he said, "to be represented by yourself, Comte." And then followed words which Leoni did not hear, for a gentleman approached the group formed by himself, Saint Simon, and Denis, and with a bow said courteously:

"May I present you gentlemen to his Majesty?"

A minute later Leoni heard Francis say:

"Your Majesty will permit me to present to your notice Master Rene Leoni, the most learned of doctors, and at the same time one of the most tyrannical. But to those who understand well the subtle art of medicine, we must forgive all."

"True," said Henry, and he leaned forward with a gracious inclination. "We can read in your countenance, sir, the deep learning of the south. Would to Heaven that there were more of it here! I trust that the stay you make at our Court will not be displeasing to you, for that it will be productive to us I make no doubt."

Leoni bowed low before the two Kings.

"My master has exaggerated my poor abilities, your Majesty," he said, and then he drew back to allow of the introduction of his two companions, to each of whom Henry addressed words of encouragement and welcome.

Later, as the music struck up, the English King turned to his visitor and asked more questions concerning Francis.

"He is at Fontainebleau?" he asked.

"Not at present, Sire," said Francis drily, and with a glance at Leoni.

"Ah!" and Henry seemed to relapse into thought.

"I would that he were here, Sire, in order that he might see how well you treat his envoys."

But Henry waved the compliment aside.

"Tell me about France," he said; "tell me about France." And he looked fixedly at the messenger from the kingdom of the fleur-de-lys, while Leoni would have given anything to draw nearer, to gather up if it were only scraps of the conversation that ensued; but he was bound to imitate the action of those around and draw back, full of anxiety about his pupil, but fain to content himself with looking around at the gay throng, before sinking into a chair where he could think about his mission, his searching eyes always busy looking about, especially at the jewels that were flashing on every side, as he hungrily sought for some thread which might form a clue to lead him ultimately to the object of his quest.

Meanwhile Denis and Saint Simon, looking as courtly as the most brightly dressed among whom they stood, were invited by one of the dignified functionaries to join in the dance, but declined on the score of fatigue; and the former had sauntered away from the throng, to stand near a curtained window a moment, when he heard his name spoken, and a hand was laid on his arm. He turned sharply, to find himself face to face with Carrbroke.

"Found you," he said. "Well, it did not require my services to show you the Court. What do you think of it? Better than Fontainebleau, is it not?"

It was not necessary for Denis to reply, because his companion went on quickly to speak of other things.

"We shall be able to see a great deal of each other, I hope," he said.

"I hope so," responded Denis readily.

"I am sure. There is a great banquet to-morrow. You will be there."

"Would they ask me?"

"Why, of course; but—here, come this way," and Carrbroke touched the other's arm. "You are not going to dance, so let us talk—out here in the garden."

Denis accompanied his friend out on to a wide terrace where there came to the ear the sound of the music still, and where there were the thousand scents of the flowers on that soft June night.

"The King sometimes walks here," said the lad; "but he will not come to-night. I like this place. Yonder is the river. You have not a river like that?"

"Oh, we have the Seine."

Carrbroke made a movement of dissent.

"They laugh at me here," he said, "because I fish. Lord Hurst would have one always wearing one's best and acting the courtier; but the King loves sport, and so do I. Let's go this way, and enter the palace by another door. There will be supper soon, and one must eat."

A moment before, Denis was beginning to think that the place was not so attractive after all, but the word supper seemed to accord well with his sensations.

He was weary with the excitement of the day, and he suddenly felt that some of his distaste was due to hunger, which he was ready enough to appease, being well looked after by his new friend; while the rest of the evening was filled up by faintly heard sounds of music and conversation which seemed to be buzzing around him, as he sat back in one of the many chairs of the grand salon, completely overcome by an invincible sense of drowsiness which seemed dark and cloudy, while out of it came a familiar voice, saying:

"Why, Denis, boy, I have been seeking you everywhere. Saint Simon was looking for you too, and said you must have gone off to bed."

"Bed—bed?" the boy remembered saying, and then all was confused again till Master Leoni's voice whispered in his ear:

"Come, wake up."

"Where's Carrbroke?" he said drowsily.

"Gone away in attendance on the King, who will soon be leaving the salon. Come, we must be in attendance too."

The next thing that occurred was the sudden starting up of the boy in his bed, with the bright morning sun shining in through the window.

"Where am I?" he muttered. "How did I come here?" And then by degrees he began to have some faint recollection of Leoni helping him to his room.

"Why, I must have disgraced myself in some way," he muttered. "What could I have done? Gone to sleep in the middle of that fete? I don't know; everything seems a blank."



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

CARRBROKE TELLS SECRETS.

The days passed quickly, with the Kings the best of friends, for Francis proved himself a boon companion, a good horseman, and quite after the King's own heart.

He made himself a favourite too, and the most courtly at the Court, ready if he had been present to have brought a sneering smile to the lips of Sir Robert Garstang, who, when the minstrels were busy in their gallery, might have seen some justification of the bullying captain's sneer respecting dancing masters, for Francis was ever ready and eager to lead some Court lady through the mazes of the dance.

For revels were plentiful at Windsor then, and Denis in the companionship of Carrbroke found the time pass pleasantly enough, on the terraces, in the park, and along the banks of the silver Thames; but he was quite forgetful for the most part of the special mission upon which he had crossed the sea.

For Ned Carrbroke had always something fresh to propose in the way of horsemanship, and often enough invited his French companion to sword-play, which was readily accepted; and to Carrbroke's wonder and delight Leoni would come to look on, and at Denis's request advise them upon questions dealing with offence and defence, and proper conduct of the rapier both in French and Italian schools.

"Why, he's splendid," cried Carrbroke one day, "only I don't like him. He puts me out of heart. I used to think that I was a good fencer, but when I cross swords with him I feel quite a baby. You are lucky to have some one like that to give you lessons. Why, you must be splendid yourself."

Denis laughed merrily.

"Why," he said, "I always feel worse than you. Master Leoni, when I fence with him and he gives me a lesson, makes me feel as if there were magic in his blade which sends a strange aching pain all up the muscles of my arm."

"Yes," cried Carrbroke, "that's something like what I feel. I say, he's your friend, isn't he?"

"Well, hardly a friend. I feel more afraid of him than anything."

"Yes," said Carrbroke eagerly, "that's how I feel—well, not afraid," he continued hastily, and flushing up; "but you won't mind my speaking out? You and I seem to have so taken to one another."

"Well, yes," said Denis, "we do seem to like one another a bit."

"Then you won't mind my speaking out quite plainly?" continued Carrbroke.

"Not I. What is it?"

"Only this. Do you think that there is something queer in his blade?"

"Only that it is best Italian steel."

"Yes, of course," said Carrbroke impatiently. "But I mean what they call magic—that there is something curious in it? You see, it turns so, and seems so strong."

"Yes, that is strange," said Denis. "It is no matter how you parry; the point always seems as if it could enter your breast if it liked. I always feel that Master Leoni could kill anyone just as he pleased."

"Of course you believe in magic?" said Carrbroke.

"I don't know. I suppose I do," replied Denis.

"I do," said Carrbroke; "and your friend seems so different from other men. Look at his eye."

"Oh, I never do if I can help it," said Denis. "You've noticed it, then?"

"Noticed it?" cried Carrbroke. "Who could help it? When he fixes it on me, as he always does, it makes me shiver; although he is always very kind, there is something about him I can't understand, and if he were my enemy I should be ready to give everything up and go away. There, what a bad job! I was just going to say, let's go for a long ride, or else make some of the King's rowers take us up the river, and then float down, and it's going to rain, and I don't want to get wet. It spoils one's doublet so. Here, I know; I'll take you all through the castle, if I can, into all the King's private rooms. They'll be with the ladies at this time of day. I can show you everything that there is to see."

"Can you?" said Denis, whose thoughts suddenly turned to his mission there.

"Oh yes; I am allowed to go where I like, as the King's youngest esquire." And then half pettishly: "They consider me only a boy. But come along."

Carrbroke was quite right, for the rain began streaming down; and a few minutes afterwards the two lads were in the royal apartments, which were quite deserted, and Carrbroke was proudly showing the different pictures, King Henry's armour, and choice collections of weapons of war. At last he stopped in front of a beautiful Italian cabinet which differed from ordinary pieces of furniture, being made to stand four-square in the centre of the apartment, each side being richly ornamented with carving and delicate inlaid work which covered the doors and drawers.

"I wish I had the keys of that," said Carrbroke.

"Why? What's inside?"

"I hardly know; but my father told me once to take notice of it, for he believed that it was full of gems and curious jewels that had been presented to the King. I never saw it open yet, but there must be many curiosities there, swords and petronels, as well as jewels."

"Indeed!" said Denis, colouring slightly.

"Oh yes; some of those curious gems that they say have magic properties—charms, don't they call them? Magic crystals that confer singular powers upon those who own them, bring good luck, and influence the fate of people. I say, do you believe in such things as that?"

"Ye-es, I think I do," said Denis, and the colour on his cheeks grew a little deeper, and then deeper still, and he winced a little as if he felt that Carrbroke's searching eyes were reading his inmost thoughts; and then he started and felt worse, for it seemed to him that his companion suspected his reasons for being there, so that he was ready to utter a sigh of relief when Carrbroke said:

"Well, you needn't look like that. You needn't be ashamed to believe in such things. I do, for there's a lot one doesn't understand. I was told once that different precious stones have very curious qualities; some will protect anyone from magic, some from enemies. There was a ring I once heard of which if a person wore would guard him from poison. It was an Italian ring, I suppose, for I believe that they try to poison people there."

"Yes, I have heard so," said Denis drily, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon the cabinet, wondering whether the treasure Leoni sought could be there. "But it seems nonsense. I don't see how a diamond or a ruby could do such things."

"No," said Carrbroke; "no more do I, unless you swallowed it to keep the poison from doing harm. Perhaps it's all nonsense. But the King believes it, I suppose."

"Why do you say so?" asked Denis.

"Because he's got a lot of such things in here. I say, don't you feel as if you'd like to smuggle some of them?"

"What!" cried Denis, flushing scarlet and gazing wildly in his companion's eyes.

"Don't look like that," cried Carrbroke, laughing. "I said smuggle; I didn't say steal. I thought you might feel as if you'd like to have one of these charms which hold such magic power."

"I am not afraid of being poisoned," said Denis huskily. "Here, come away from this; show me something else."

"Oh, haven't you seen enough? But I say, is this better or worse than Fontainebleau?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Denis hastily, for he felt mentally disturbed. "They are both beautiful places. Where does that corridor lead?"

"All along one side of the King's apartments."

"Well, let's go down there."

"But there's nothing to show you but furniture and walls covered with arras and—oh yes, there is: I know. I say, you haven't got any secret passages at Fontainebleau?"

"We have all kinds of places hidden in the walls. Have you got any here?"

Carrbroke nodded.

"I say, we are friends, aren't we?"

"Of course; the best of friends."

"Then I'll show you something; only it's a secret. Not that it matters about you knowing it, as you are not going to live here. It's something I found out myself. I was on duty here—as page in attendance on the King—one evening, just at dusk, and the candles weren't lit. There had been a grand banquet the night before, with music and dancing, and I'd been up all night, and just as it began to grow dark I turned so sleepy I couldn't keep my eyes open. I tried ever so hard, but it was of no use, and I sank down in a chair close up to the hangings in a dark corner, and was asleep in a moment. I don't think it could have been long before I woke up again with a start. I suppose some noise must have woke me, and I sat there staring and wondering where I was, for I felt quite stupid, when all at once the arras that covered the wall just opposite to me seemed to open, and something dark came out, to stand still for a few moments as if listening. Then there was a rustling of hangings, and the dark figure came straight towards me, making me turn cold; for I felt then that I had been asleep, and I thought it was some one come to punish me. But the figure did not come close up to where I sat, but suddenly turned off towards a light which appeared at the end of the corridor and came nearer, while directly after I made out that some of the servants were bringing in candles, and directly after, though I only saw his back, I knew it was the King."

"Then he didn't see you?" said Denis.

"No, fortunately for me."

"Then he must have come out of some secret passage."

"That was it, and of course you know what I did afterwards—not then, but the first day that I had the chance?"

"Searched for the secret door, of course. I should."

"Yes, and I found it; and that's what I'm going to show you. We are not likely to be disturbed now."

Before many minutes had elapsed the two youths were standing in front of a huge needlework picture representing a classic scene, covered with warriors and triumphal cars.

"There, you wouldn't think there was a door behind there, would you?"

"No, that I shouldn't," replied Denis.

"But there is. You see that warrior's shield with the boss on it that stands out as if it were real?"

"Yes," said Denis; "it is very cleverly done."

"Yes, but it is real," said Carrbroke, and he glanced to right and left to see if they were observed. "We are quite alone. Now you touch that boss."

"Yes: it's hard and round," said Denis.

"Now give it a twist."

Denis did as he was told, and there was a faint click like the lifting of a latch.

"Now push," continued Carrbroke.

Denis again obeyed, and something gave way as if he had pushed a door which opened from him.

"Now then," said Carrbroke, "what do you think of that?"

"That if I lifted the arras I could pass into another room."

"Not quite right; not into another room, but into a dark passage made in the wall. I went in one day when the King was out hunting and I felt grumpy because I had been left behind, and I thought I should like to see what there was there."

"Yes, and you went?" said Denis eagerly. "Yes, all along a dark passage for ever so far. Then I came to another door, which opened easily, and there was a flight of stairs; at the bottom of that there was another door and another long passage, twice as long as the first, and then another door."

"Did you open that?"

"Yes; and where do you think I was?"

"I don't know. In the cellars perhaps."

"No; in a dark part of the terrace all amongst the trees. Then I wasn't satisfied, for it was all new to me, and I felt curious to see where the dark winding walk that was before me went to."

"Yes," said Denis eagerly; "and where did it lead?"

"Right away down and down to some stone steps close to a little pavilion on the banks of the river, where there was a boat fastened to a post. That was the King's private way, of course."

"Yes," said Denis; "but what did he want it for?"

"Oh, I don't know; and I didn't want to know, for anyone who meddled with the King's secrets might come in for the loss of his head, and I didn't want to lose mine. I came back as fast as I could. There, you can have a look through into the dark passage if you like. Kneel down and lift up the hangings. There, what can you see?" continued the lad, as Denis obeyed, finding the abundant folds give way easily, so that he could peer right beyond.

"Nothing at all; it is quite dark."

"Come away," said Carrbroke quickly. "That's right," he continued, and then quickly taking Denis's place he quite disappeared.

"Am I to follow?" said Denis wonderingly; but he had hardly finished speaking before Carrbroke reappeared, laughing.

"Only shutting the door," he said. "Has anyone seen us?"

"No," said Denis, after a glance in both directions.

"That's right," said Carrbroke. "I say, though, it is interesting, isn't it? But now I've told you I can't help wondering why I did. But there, you won't go and tell King Hal that I told you his secrets, will you?"

"Not very likely, is it?" said Denis, smiling, but troubled the while by an uncomfortable sensation which made him feel as if he regretted his knowledge, though at the same time he knew that he had acquired information that might be of extreme value if their masquerading were discovered, perhaps mean the saving of his King.

His musings were suddenly broken off by the voice of companion.

"There," he said, "let's go out of doors in the sunshine. I feel as if I had got dark passage on the brain."



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

SO DOES DENIS.

It was the very next day that Denis, after his attendance upon Francis, who had gone to join Henry, was alone in the King's apartments, standing in the deep recess of a casement window, which he had flung open, and was leaning out gazing at the landscape stretching far and wide before him, and giving him a silvery glimpse here and there of the bright glittering river.

He was so lost in admiration of the scene that he did not hear the door open, and was only made conscious of some one being in the room behind him by hearing a low muttering voice say:

"A blind search! A blind search! What shall I do next to bring it to an end?"

Denis made a sharp movement, catching the sleeve of his doublet against the copper fastening which held open the casement; and as he turned a nervous hand suddenly seized him by the shoulder in a painful grasp, for it was as if fingers of steel were pressing into his flesh.

"You, Master Leoni!" he cried, as the clutch was relaxed as quickly as it came. "Yes, my boy," said the doctor; and the lad shivered slightly as the fierce fire in one of Leoni's eyes died into a pleasant smile, though the cold fixed stare in the other remained the same as of old.

"I thought I was alone."

"Well, boy; do you like your life here in the castle?"

"Oh yes," cried Denis; "but when are we to have, Carrbroke and I, another fencing lesson?"

"At any time when the King does not require my services," said Leoni, smiling. "Why, you will soon be a better swordsman than I."

"Oh, sir!" cried Denis deprecatingly.

"Well, say as good, my dear boy, when you know all that I can teach you."

"And you will teach me all, sir?"

"Of course, of course," said the doctor, laying his hand caressingly on the boy's shoulder. "You are a pupil of whom I feel proud. But tell me," he continued, as he passed his hand softly along the muscles of the lad's arm, "what about the stiffness and pain?"

"All gone, sir. That salve you applied seemed to make it pass entirely away."

"That is good," said the doctor, nodding his head. "But tell me, boy, was I speaking aloud when I came into the room?"

"Not aloud, sir, but just so that I could hear what you said."

"Ah, a bad habit! And what did I say?"

"It was something about a blind search."

"Ah, yes; and you guessed at once what I meant?"

"Why, yes, sir. I immediately thought that you meant the—"

With a quick movement, accompanied by a smile, Leoni's long, thin, brown fingers were laid upon Denis's lips.

"Hist, boy! We are in King Henry's palace, where walls may have ears. Speak it not. We understand one another, and know what in our master's service we have come to seek. Denis, you are a boy in years, but I find you in many things a man at heart, and there should be no half confidences between us two. I like you, my boy, and always have, stern and cold and severe as I may have seemed. My face may have been hard, but there are moments when my heart is soft. Denis, my son, we are working for the King and for France, and so far I am at fault. I thought my task would be so easy that, once here, that which we seek would be within my grasp; and so far it seems beyond me, while the golden hours glide swiftly away, and before many days have passed our visit with all its risks must have an end. I shiver sometimes, boy, as I stand close by and listen to our master's careless, light-hearted speech. Again and again he has been within an ace of betraying who he is, and at any moment some of the sharper-witted of the courtiers by whom we are surrounded may grasp the truth, and then, Denis, as Francis has said, we are in the lion's den and the risk is great."

"Yes, sir; I see all that," said Denis, in a low earnest whisper. "Then you have no idea where the jewel of France is kept?"

"Not the slightest, boy, and I want you to use your eyes and ears to help me all you can. There is that young English esquire. You are great friends; perhaps he might know. I don't like asking you to play the spy and betray your friend, but the English are our natural enemies. We are here upon a sacred mission, and we must quiet our consciences with the recollection that what we seek was torn by conquest from the Valois diadem."

"Yes, I know, sir," whispered Denis eagerly, influenced as he was by the masterful spirit and words of his tutor.

"Then try, boy; try your best to help me, while we have time. You promise me this?"

"Of course, sir. But what," cried Denis, with his eyes flashing, "if I already know?"

"Boy!" cried Leoni excitedly; and he caught his young companion by the shoulders, but checked himself, instantly drew back, walked slowly across the room to the door, opened it and looked out, and then came back and signed to Denis to close the window, while he softly moved here and there; and the boy noticed how, as if to examine the beauty of the silken hangings, he touched them again and again, as if to make sure that no listener was concealed behind.

Leoni ended by joining his young companions in the deep embrasure of the window, taking him by the arm, and pressing him towards the diamond panes of the casement as if to draw his attention to something out beyond the terrace and the steep slope below.

"Now," he said, in a quick whisper, "speak beneath your breath. You know where?"

"In the tall, square-turreted cabinet three parts of the way down the long corridor by the King's private apartments."

"Ah, I have not been there, and dared not raise suspicion by asking permission to go. Are you sure?"

"Carrbroke has as good as told me it was there. He spoke of a charm with fateful powers of its own, and that the King held gems as sacred relics."

"Ah!" ejaculated Leoni softly. "Boy, you make me begin to live."

"Shall I tell you something more, sir?"

"There can be nothing more that I wish to hear," whispered Leoni. "Boy, you have filled an empty void. But speak; tell me what more you have to say."

"The King has a secret passage whose door is in the arras two chambers down the long corridor farther on."

"Young Carrbroke told you so?"

"Yes."

"Bah! But it would be a secret way known only to himself, of no avail to us. It could not be found. Once the relic is in our hands, a silken rope and some window must be our way."

"But I know the secret of the passage, sir, how to open the door, and where the passage leads."

"Where, boy, where?" cried Leoni excitedly.

"Down to the grounds, and then by a long winding alley through the private gardens to the riverside."

"Hist!" whispered Leoni. "No more, boy, for your words have seemed to burn. Ah, it is strange! The workings too of fate. What I have striven for in vain has come to you without seeking, without thought. It is fate, boy, fate. The spirit of our great nation is working on our behalf, and has made you the chosen instrument of our success. We must, we shall succeed, and through you. Now silence; not another word but these. I say silence, Denis. It is for our master's sake and for la France."



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

THE CHAMBERLAIN HAS SUSPICIONS.

Several days passed at the Court in a succession of gaieties including hunting, an excursion on the river, and at night banquet and dance. Henry was charmed with the pleasant sprightliness of his guest, whose lively French manner attracted him more and more. He distinguished himself in the field and in the chivalrous sports in the Castle Yard.

There were moments when the King looked grim and slightly disposed to be jealous of the applause given to the Comte, and more than once Lord Hurst saw his master frown heavily upon seeing how great a favourite Francis had made himself with the courtiers, who were delighted with the change the gay Frenchman made in the monotony of their daily life. But Leoni felt that the luxurious seats he occupied at Windsor were stuffed with thorns, and that they were placed close to the edge of a mine that might at any moment explode.

Still the time wore on and the danger seemed as far off as ever, for in obedience to Leoni's prompting Francis, though often sailing very near the wind, dexterously gave a turn to the rudder just at the right time, and the doctor breathed freely once again, while he waited for the moment when he could put into action one or other of the plans he had thought out, to get possession of the fateful jewel whose resting-place he felt he knew, lying as it did, though still distant, almost within his grasp. For short of gaining entrance to the private corridor where it lay, and boldly breaking open the cabinet some night, to carry off the prize, he could not yet see his way.

"That must be the last resource," he said to Denis. "The Comte and I must exercise subtlety. The knowledge came from you, boy—given to you by fate; and we must wait longer, even if it be for days. Who knows but, as she has favoured us so far, fate may place in our hands the fruit that is ripe to pluck?"

"I wish they'd pluck it or leave it alone," said Denis to himself. "I hate the whole business. It is very pleasant being here, and Carrbroke makes himself quite like a brother, though I can't help laughing at him sometimes when he speaks such bad French; but that doesn't matter. He laughs at my bad English just the same, and it's all capital sport when we are together, if I didn't feel so treacherous. There are times when I should like to tell him all, and why we are here; but I can't, for that would be behaving treacherously to my King."

The lad ended his musings rather gloomily, as he felt sure that before long they would be found out and the daring business be all come to an end.

Similar thoughts kept Leoni awake the greater part of each night in his luxurious chamber, spoiling his rest, and making him attend his master the next morning terribly troubled in mind, but only to brighten up on finding how well in favour the Comte seemed with the King, who was always seeking his visitor out for some new pursuit in courtly pleasure or excursion.

But the cloud was gathering all the same, and the discovery very near at hand.

One morning Lord Hurst was in attendance upon Henry, making his customary daily reports and taking his orders for various preparations to carry out something fresh in the way of entertainment, when the King waved his hand impatiently.

"There, there," he cried, "no more of this!" Then, good-humouredly, "Well, Hurst, what do you think of our ambassador?"

"Think of him, Sire?" replied the courtier.

"Yes, yes," cried the King testily. "Do I not speak plainly? Why do you look at me like that? Do you not think he is a most worthy representative of his master?"

"Undoubtedly, Sire, but—"

"Hurst," cried the King furiously, "have I not made you my trusted adviser?"

"Yes, Sire, and I am your faithful servant, always ready to advise."

"Then why do you not speak out? I know you of old. You are keeping something back. What does this mean? Have you some suspicion about this man? Hah! I have it! You believe him to be a spy sent by Francis to learn all he can about my Court—about my realm! Man, man, you do not believe that this French King is plotting something to rob me farther of the possessions gained by my ancestors in the past?"

"No, Sire, no; but I am troubled in my mind," said Hurst, speaking in a low anxious tone.

"Out with it, then! What is your suspicion? What is it you know?"

"I know nothing, Sire," replied Hurst; "but I am troubled, in my grave anxiety for my master's weal, as to the real motives of this Comte's visit."

"Hah!"

"And I doubt, Sire, as to his being the Comte de la Seine."

"What!" cried the King. "Some impostor! Hurst! This is an insult to my guest, as noble and accomplished a gentleman as ever entered our Court—one whom I already look upon as my friend. Speak, man! What is it you think—that he is some cheat?"

"Cheat, Sire? No; but I believe him to be far higher in station than he says."

"Hah! Higher? How could he be higher?"

"Some prince, Sire, of royal blood."

"Bah!" cried the King contemptuously. "Fool! Dreamer! And at a time like this, when the horses are waiting and my guest doubtless ready, waiting till I join him! Always like this, Hurst, thinking out some wild diplomatic folly to cast like a stumbling-block in my way when I am upon pleasure bent. It is but little rest I get from cares of state, and you grudge me even that. Bah! I will hear no more.—Stop!" cried the King, after turning away. "See that there is a better banquet to-night, something more done to honour my French brother's emissary; more music and dancing, too. There, that is enough." And, hot and fuming, the King strode from the chamber, leaving his chamberlain standing alone, thoughtful and heavy.

Shortly afterwards there came through the open window the trampling of horses, eager voices, dominating all the loud, bluff, hearty voice of the King, followed by the sharper, rather metallic tones of the Comte, and then the merry laughter and ejaculations of the ladies who had joined the cavalcade. Then silence once again.

"Perhaps I am wrong," said the chamberlain thoughtfully; "and too much zeal may prove my ruin, for mine is a dangerous post and I fear that I have gone too far. I don't know, though. The suspicion seems to grow. We shall see, though; we shall see."



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

AND OPENS THE KING'S EYES.

The chamberlain had worthily carried out his master's orders, and the scene in connection with the supper that night was brighter than ever; but the King did not seem satisfied. His heavy face looked gloomy, and Francis banteringly asked him if he was too much wearied by the hunt that day, receiving a grave nod in reply.

Later on Francis, who was excited and annoyed by the dullness of his host, made an excuse to leave him and join the dance, but only to find his progress stayed by Leoni, who led him aside to make some communication—one which made his master frown and whisper back angrily. But Leoni spoke again, and Denis, who was near, saw the King make a deprecating gesture with his hands, and then hurry off to enter the salon where the dancing was going on.

Denis stood watching Leoni, who stood looking thoughtfully after his master.

"I thought so," said the boy to himself, for as he watched Leoni he saw the doctor turn slowly and with his peculiar fixed look sweep the well-filled room till his eye rested upon the young esquire.

The next moment he had raised his finger to his lips, gazing at him fixedly for some moments, before turning and moving towards the door, when Denis heaved a deep sigh and looked round in vain in search of Saint Simon; but he was nowhere near, and the boy slowly followed Leoni, whom he found waiting for him just outside the door.

Meanwhile Hurst, upon seeing the Comte's departure, drew near to where Henry sat moody and alone, the various gentlemen in attendance, knowing their master's ways, having drawn back a little, to enter into a forced conversation, waiting for the King's next move.

They had not long to wait, for he suddenly looked round till his eyes rested upon the chamberlain, when he rose, to lay his hand upon his counsellor's shoulder and walk out with him towards the now deserted corridor, into which the strains of music from the ballroom floated again and again.

"There, Hurst," he cried, as soon as they were alone, and they paced together slowly towards the end, "what am I to say to you?"

"Sire?"

"If I were not in a good humour I should be disposed to punish you by the loss of my favour for spoiling what ought to have been a joyous day."

"Sire, I am deeply grieved. You must credit me with anxiety in my duty towards your Majesty."

"Yes, yes, I do," cried the King impatiently. "But your suspicions have been absurd, and have made me behave almost rudely to my brother's ambassador, as noble a gentleman as I ever met. Zounds, man! Is a king's life always to be made bitter by his people's dreams of plots? Your suspicions are all folly. He a prince of France! Absurd!"

The chamberlain walked on in silence, and stopped short where the corridor opened out into a well-lit chamber whose walls were hung with portraits.

"Well," said the King, "what now?"

"Would your Majesty step here into this alcove?" said the chamberlain, after a quick glance around to see that they were alone.

"What now?" cried the King angrily.

The chamberlain made no reply, but still stepped forward to the far side of the chamber, where he took a candle from one of the sconces on the wall to hold it up above his head in front of a large full-length canvas, the work of some great master, whose brush had so vividly delineated the features of his subject that the portrait seemed to gaze fixedly down at the King, while a faint smile just flickered upon its lips.

"Does your Majesty know those features?" said the chamberlain. "Who is that?"

"What!" cried the King, in startled tones. "Philippe de Valois."

"Yes, Sire; and my suspicion grows stronger every hour."

"Hah!" cried the King. "But no: impossible! And yet the same eyes; that same careless, half mocking smile. Hurst, there is something in this. The features are similar."

"Yes, Sire. It is a strong family resemblance."

"But who could it be, and why should he come here? To play the spy; for it could mean nothing else. What sinister plots and plans can there be behind all this? But you were thinking. You know something more?"

"I know no more than your Majesty. I only suspect."

"Suspect! Suspicion! I hate the very sounds of the words, and all the black clouds that hang around them. A family resemblance? Then who could this man be?"

The chamberlain was silent.

"Man," whispered the King hoarsely, "you are my servant. Don't thwart me now. If you value your place here—more, your life—speak out!"

The chamberlain returned the candle to the sconce, and then said slowly:

"Your servant's life is at your service, Sire. I am not sure, but I tell you honestly that which I believe. This gentleman is wearing a disguise, and comes here under an assumed name, and from my soul I believe he is—"

"Who?" whispered the King, grasping him fiercely by the arm.

"Francis, King of France."

"Hah!" ejaculated the King hoarsely, and with his face taking a fierce expression mingled with anger, surprise, and triumph. "And what has brought him here? If you are right. Hurst—mind, I say, if you are right—But you had never seen this man before, and it may be only a resemblance."

"It may, your Majesty, but—"

"If it is," whispered the King, with his face looking purple in the dim light, "the fox has come unbidden into the lion's den, and if the lion should raise his paw, where would be the fox?"

He looked fiercely and meaningly in his follower's eyes.

"France," continued the King, in a hoarse whisper. "France, how much of those fair domains won by my predecessors with the sword have been wrested from the English crown bit by bit—the noble domains over which these Valois now rule as usurpers. Hurst, what if the sceptre of England should be held again swaying our ancient lands of France. Supposing, I say, there were no Valois, or he perforce had been called upon to render back all that had been stolen from our crown. I am the King, and as my father used his gallant sword to gain one kingdom, why should not I by a diplomatic move win back another?"

"Your Majesty is King," said the chamberlain slowly and meaningly.

"Yes," said the King, in a hoarse whisper; "and when I am moved to act my will is strong."

There was silence for a few moments, and then Henry continued angrily:

"A ruse—a trick, put upon me for some strange scheming of his own, a gin, a trap to capture me, but for the setter to be caught himself. Francis, King of France!" he continued hoarsely; and then a peculiar smile, mocking, bitter, and almost savage, came upon his, lips as he gazed piercingly at his companion.

"No, Hurst," he said meaningly, "I know no King of France. He would not dare to beard me in my own home like this. This man, this mock ambassador, this Comte de la Seine, is the only one with whom we have to do—an impostor who shall meet with the trickster's fate."

"But your Majesty—" said the chamberlain eagerly.

"My Majesty, Hurst, is going to work his own will, and as he will."

"But, Sire, you will be just?"

"Yes, Hurst, as I always am. I grant that you may still be wrong, and we will clear this up."

"Your Majesty is going to—"

"Straight to the ballroom," replied the King, "to see this Comte de la Seine and have the truth."

"Now, Sire?"

"Yes, now at once."

The King turned abruptly, and, closely followed by the chamberlain, made for the ballroom, where the dancing was in full progress; but the Comte was not leading one of the brightest ladies of the Court through the mazes of gavotte or minuet, and as the King turned angrily to his chamberlain it was to find him in close converse with one of the gentlemen in attendance.

"The Comte made the excuse of a bad headache, Sire, some few minutes back, and retired to his apartments with his suite," whispered Hurst.

"Then I am afraid we shall make it worse," said the King bitterly. "This way, Hurst; I must have the truth of this before I sleep." And he strode from the room, closely followed by his companion, to whom in his excitement as he followed the angry lion the movements of the dancers seemed mocking, and the music sounded strange.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

DARK WORK.

More than one of the Court ladies thought the gallant Comte strange in his manner, as they waited, fully expecting that he would come up and offer his hand to lead them through the next dance; but it soon became evident that nothing was farther from his intentions, and after looking on for a short time he slowly left the great apartment, and began to make his way towards his own rooms. "I don't like it; I don't like it," he muttered. "It is vile and degrading. I feel as if only to think of it were lowering myself to the level of some cutpurse. I would I had never come. No," he added sharply; "the time has passed too gaily for me to say that; and the good, bluff, hot-tempered, cheery Henri! I like the brave Englishman, and my faith, I have made him like me, traitor as I am.—No, it is not I. It is the spirit of that cunning, subtle Leoni, with his horrible fixed eye. I cannot tell why, but he masters me—King as I am. He turns me round his finger and forces me to obey even against my better feelings; for I think I have some. Can it be that he is more than man, that he possesses some strange power over one's brain, as he does over the body when one is ill? Well, I'll be master now. I will not do this thing. By my sword, is this cunning Italian to force his master to become a thief? No! He shall learn to-night that I'll have none of it. Conceal who I am! Play the part of a masquerading spy! No! to-morrow I'll tell my brother Harry the whole truth."

He started violently as he came to this conclusion, for a dark figure suddenly glided from behind one of the statues in the long passage he was following. "You, Leoni?" he said, in a hoarse whisper. "M. le Comte! Yes, it is I. You have been long."

"Long?" said Francis haughtily. "How—" He stopped short, for Leoni placed his lips close to his ear. "France is anxious, Sire, and the time has come."

"The time!" said the King sharply. "Not for that?"

"Yes, M. le Comte, for that. I have been waiting for the fateful moment to arrive for the great opportunity, and it has come."

"But," cried Francis, "I have been thinking—my position here—my good friend the King. Leoni, all this must end; I cannot, I will not do this thing."

"Sire!" whispered Leoni.

"No, no, man. It is the Comte de la Seine you speak to, and who tells you he will let you lead him no more through these devious ways. Who are you that you should dare to force me onward into such a crime?"

"Your servant, sir, but at the same time he to whom it is given to lead you aright towards making your country the greatest in the world."

"Through crime?" said the King hotly.

"The acts of kings, sir, are outside crime. You are the anointed, and can do no wrong."

"Of my own will, no; but this:—"

"Sir, the spirit of your country calls upon you to act. The fateful jewel we came to seek is ready to pass into your possession, and the time has come—"

"Leoni, I will not hear you. I swear I will not sully mine honour with such an act. This deed shall never be done by me."

"Deed—deed, sir—act! You speak as if it were a crime," whispered Leoni.

"It is a crime," cried the King angrily. "Dare not to speak to me of this deed again. Now, enough. The King expects me back, and to-morrow I will place myself outside temptation, and leave this place. Whatever happens, my visit here is at an end."

"Your visit ends to-night, sir," said Leoni, in a low, harsh whisper; and as he spoke he leaned forward, passed his hands quickly before the King's face, and then caught him by the wrist.

"Leoni!" said Francis quickly. "What means this?"

"I have told you, sir. It is too late to attempt to shrink back now that the fateful moment has arrived. Quick, sir, and in an hour's time we shall be on our way to the coast. Silence, sir," he whispered sharply, as Francis essayed to speak, looking half dazed the while in his companion's eye, as Leoni leaned towards him with his hot breath passing over the monarch's face. "This way, sir—quick!"

"Where? Where?" faltered the King. "What does this mean, Leoni?" he whispered. "Have you been tricking me with one of your accursed drugs?"

"Silence, sir! I am calling you back to your duty," whispered the doctor, as he guided Francis quickly along the passage, still holding him tightly by the wrist, "for once more I pray you to prove yourself our country's greatest son."

Francis made no reply, no sign, but, yielding helplessly, allowed himself to be led to the door of his ante-chamber, where the door opened without being touched, and, once inside, closed behind them, Saint Simon having been waiting, while Denis, who looked pale and excited by the light of the two candles that illumined the room, rose up from where he had been kneeling, securing the straps of a valise.

No one spoke a word, for Leoni raised his hand as if commanding silence, as he still held the wrist of Francis, who gazed vacantly from one to the other as if he were in a dream.

"Is the Comte ill?" said Denis anxiously.

"A little over-excited," said Leoni quickly. "A cup of water, boy." And as he spoke, without leaving his grasp of the King's wrist, Leoni thrust the hand at liberty into his breast and drew forth a little golden flacon, which glistened in the light.

"Set down the cup," said Leoni quickly, as Denis returned from the bedchamber with the water. "Now, boy, unscrew the top of this, and hold it in your hand."

Leoni held out the little glistening flask, retaining it tightly, while Denis twisted off the tiny, cup-like top.

"Not that way, boy; turn it up so that I can fill it to the brim. Now," he whispered, "empty it into the water, and screw on the top once more."

This was quickly done, and the flacon replaced.

"Now," continued Leoni, "hand the cup to the Comte. The ballroom was overheated, and the wine he has drunk to-night has affected him.—Drink, sir; you will be better then."

The King started slightly, looked wildly in the eyes that seemed to master him, and with a slight shiver took the handed cup, drained it, and uttered a low, deep sigh.

"Ah," said Leoni, smiling in a peculiar way. "Now, gentlemen, the time has come for action. You, Saint Simon, be silent, and alert. There must be no bloodshed unless it is to save the Comte. You will come with us, and I shall depend upon your sword for our protection if there is peril in the way. You, Denis, boy," he continued, turning to the young esquire, who stood looking on now with his lips apart and a strange feeling of misery and despair oppressing him, "you have your duty to perform."

"Not to—" began Denis; but he was checked by the angry gesture the doctor made.

"Silence, sir! Your master's work. Follow us outside, and remain there on guard. The Comte's valise is ready. Never mind our own. Here, quick! Where is the cloak?"

Denis darted to a garde-robe and drew out the monarch's cloak.

"That's right. Throw it down there. You will now allow no one to pass in here, but stand on guard till we return. If we are not back here by the time the castle clock has chimed twice you will take the cloak and valise, go down the long corridor, if possible unseen, and make for the stables, where you will have the horses saddled at once."

"But—"

"But!" snapped out Leoni. "They must be saddled. Quick! Slip off my pouch and gird it on. There is gold enough within, and if that will not move the people there you have your sword."

Denis uttered a sigh of relief as he hastily unclasped the doctor's belt, for this was work he felt that he could do.

The next minute he was following his companions across the ante-chamber, ready to close the door behind them and place himself on guard in a gloomy angle of the corridor, from whence as he watched them he saw their figures seem to glide along the lighted portion, the Comte yielding entirely to his leader's every motion, till they passed quickly out of the sentry's ken.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

BEARDING A LION.

The King walked swiftly on in the direction of that portion of the castle where he had lodged his guest, the polished oak boards of the floor resounding beneath his heavy tread, while the chamberlain heard him keep muttering to himself as he went, till he reached a portion where a couple of officers stood on duty by a heavy door, ready to challenge them; but seeing in the half darkness who their visitors were, they drew back saluting, and opened the doors to allow them to pass.

"Your Majesty," said the chamberlain, in a low tone, as they began passing down an inner passage, and Henry read in his voice a protest against the action he was taking.

"Have done with your scruples," he said. "I am not going to assassinate Francis, or even do him ill, only to make sure." And he proceeded on his way, motioning to another officer, who came forward and saluted, to resume his post.

Turning at right angles, and going some distance further on, the King stopped again.

"It should be here," he said quietly, and he moved towards a wide arched door, but drew back suddenly, for a figure emerged from the shadow into the full light, naked sword in hand.

"You cannot pass," said the sentry.

"Who are you?" said Henry.

"A follower of the noble Comte de la Seine," was the reply.

"And he mounts guards at his chamber door?" said the King haughtily.

"Yes; but by what right do you come here and question me?"

Henry advanced into the light of a lamp overhead, and threw back his robe.

"I have the right," he said.

Denis drew back, but only a step.

"The King!" he murmured. "The King!"

Henry nodded quickly.

"You know me? Good. I have another word I wish to say to your master to-night."

"Sire," said Denis, dropping on one knee, "it is impossible."

"Impossible!" thundered the King.

"Impossible, Sire."

"Impossible! To me! In to your master at once, and tell him I have words to say to him to-night. By Heaven, it is an honour I do him, I think!"

"But, Sire—" cried Denis, who still barred the way.

"You heard me, boy?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Then—obey!"

"I regret to repeat to your Majesty that I cannot."

"Cannot!"

"No, Sire."

The King burst into a harsh laugh, and turning to the chamberlain, pointed angrily at the boy, before facing him again frowningly.

"Stand back, boy, and let me pass."

"I regret, your Majesty. Order me to do something else far more difficult—I would cheerfully obey your commands."

"But I have nothing else which I wish you to do—only this. Let me pass."

"No, Sire."

"Boy, it is the first time in my recollection that I have been refused obedience. Why do you stay me?"

"My master, Sire, has ordered me to keep strict guard here."

"Hurst, what am I to do to this obstinate fool?"

The chamberlain stepped forward.

"Boy," he said, "it is from sheer ignorance that you place yourself in such a position of danger. Sheathe your sword at once, sir, and let his Majesty pass. Do you not know that there are guards here at every turn? My royal master's guests will be well protected without your aid."

Denis stood motionless, and made no attempt to stir.

"Do you hear, sirrah!" roared the King. "I am in no humour to wait longer. Stand back."

This was too much for the determination of the young esquire. It was a king who spoke, and drawing back slightly, he yielded to circumstances, feeling that his puny efforts were in vain, and guarding the door no longer, he thrust his sword back into its scabbard and stood aside.

"Ah!" cried the King, growing mollified upon seeing himself obeyed, and looking admiringly at the lad. "Not bad, Hurst, for a mere boy," he said. "May I always be as well served by followers of mine. There," he continued, stepping forward towards the door, and looking back at Denis, "you can follow me, and I will make your peace with your lord, for I am master here."

He tapped sharply at the panel of the door with the hilt of his sword, and Denis heard him breathing heavily as if after some great exertion; but there was no reply, and he tapped again, with the same negative result. Then with an angry snort he said mockingly:

"Our young esquire seems to have reason on his side, and the Comte must be asleep. Am I to leave him to his slumbers, Hurst? But maybe he will sleep the better after awakening and hearing all I have to say. Open the door, Hurst. Bah! I need no help for this." And, brushing by the chamberlain, he noisily raised the latch, thrust open the door, and entered the room.

It was the ante-chamber, with the couple of candles burning on the mantel. The richly embroidered cloak lay upon the couch where it had been hurriedly thrown, and the valise lay ready packed and strapped.

The King's eyes flashed as the valise caught his eye, and crossing the room quickly he made for the door of the sleeping chamber, which was ajar.

There was no pause to ask for entrance here, for now fully roused, the King thrust open the door, with the light from behind him falling fall upon the unpressed bed.

"Hah! What I expected," cried the King angrily. "This way, Hurst. There is mystery and trickery here."

As he was speaking the clock from one of the turrets was chiming loudly, the sounds of the bells seeming to quiver in the still air and mingle with the faint strains from the room where the dancing was still going on.

The chamberlain rushed forward, looked sharply round, and made for the casement; but it was closed and fastened inside.

"The boy on guard, Sire, and no one here!" cried the chamberlain. "I do not understand."

"Nor I," cried the King; "but we will, and that right soon." Then making for the door, which had fallen back as the chamberlain entered, he dragged it open, crying angrily, "Boy, your master is not sleeping here. Where is he? What have you to say? Ha!" he roared, like the angry lion he had described himself to be. "Quick, Hurst! Our guards! The boy has gone!"



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

LEONI'S WEAPON.

But as Hurst made a step forward to summon the guard the King caught him by the wrist.

"By my faith," he ejaculated, "there is black treachery here! Am I in my own palace or in a tavern? These fellows come and go as if the place were their own. A mystery too. But by the crown I swear I'll solve it!" And for a few moments he stood fuming. "Here, Hurst," he said hoarsely, "your brains have been sharper than mine, and I'm beginning to think you are right about that portrait. Ambassador—poet—brilliant conversationalist—one who has won himself into favour with us all. Hah!" he went on. "He can be no Comte de la Seine! Can you ever trust a Frenchman? But come on!" And he led the way back into the long gallery. "I've got ears like a cat to-night," he said; "but unfortunately not the eyes of one. Surely those were footsteps down yonder?"

"Yes, Sire," said Hurst. "Beneath that window—a white doublet!"

"Yes," cried the King. "Come on!"

"But the guard, Sire? Shall I gammon them?"

"No, no," cried the King impatiently. "This is exciting. We will be our own guard, and find out the truth ourselves."

The King and the chamberlain had not gone many yards along the gallery when they they came to a halt, for a figure barred the way.

"Who goes there?" came from out of the gloom.

"Pst!" said the King. "Young Carrbroke.—England!" he cried.

The figure came nearer, into the light of a window—a slim figure in a white doublet; and the radiance of the moon flashed on a bared and shining sword.

"Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, and he dropped on one knee.

"Rise," said Henry. "You are on duty here?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Has anyone passed?"

"No, Sire."

"You are certain?"

"Quite certain, Sire."

"Good. Come, Hurst!" And the two proceeded on their way, turning the corner of the long gallery, passing from gloom to silvery light, and again into the dusk, as they walked beneath the windows, while at the angle the lustrous splendour was shed through red glass, falling brilliantly on the King's plumed hat, his sword and royal star, as the pair disappeared.

Carrbroke turned and looked after the retreating figures.

"I wish," he murmured, "that his Majesty had ordered me to follow him." And he stood gazing in the direction the King and chamberlain had taken, till growing weary, he stepped aside into the shadow, where he could half seat himself, half lean against the end of a great settee. "How I do hate this guard work of a night! Yes, and there's the music still going on. I just heard one strain. All bright and gay yonder, and here all dark and dull. But it's an honour, I suppose, to be on the watch over the ways to his Majesty's private apartments, and have him come and find me here. It means promotion some day, such private service as this. I wonder where French Denis is? Dancing with the prettiest girl he can find, I'll be bound. Oh dear, how dreary it is! And I feel as if I could lie down and go to sleep."

Then with a start he was fully on the alert, ready to step out into such light as was shed through the window near.

"His Majesty coming back," he muttered, for quick steps were heard approaching, and a few moments later he stepped quickly out to bar the way as he did a short time before, and with a feeling upon him that he would show his master how well he was on the alert.

He challenged, fully believing that it was Henry and the chamberlain, and started violently on finding out his mistake, for it was Francis, who cried angrily:

"Who are you?"

"Carrbroke, M. le Comte. This is the way to his Majesty's private apartments. You cannot pass here."

In an instant Leoni had glided alongside, to lay his hand softly on the youth's arm.

"My dear young friend," he said, "you do not recognise who it is speaking. It is the King's friend, the Comte de la Seine. The ballroom was hot, and these corridors calm, cool, and refreshing. The Comte is only going round this way to reach his apartment. We can reach it down this passage, can we not?"

"No, sir," said Carrbroke quietly. "I am sorry to have to turn you back, but you must seek some other way. I am on guard here, and it is his Majesty's commands that no one shall pass this private corridor by night—and no wonder," thought the lad, as he recalled his discovery of the private doorway not far from where they stood.

Francis uttered an impatient growl.

"Tell him," he said angrily in French, to Leoni—"tell him I object to being treated like a prisoner"—words which Leoni translated, in the belief that they were not understood.

"The Comte de la Seine says, Monsieur Carrbroke, that surely his Majesty would make an exception in favour of his friend."

"I regret it much," was the reply, "but unless the King gives me such orders in contradiction of those which I have received, I cannot let you pass. Once more, gentlemen, it is impossible, and you must return. Did you hear me, M. Saint Simon? Ah, sir, you—" He said no more, for Saint Simon had passed onward, as if to go on in spite of all that had been said, but only to turn quickly and seize his arms from behind, while at the same moment his speech was cut short by Leoni's hand—the subtle Franco-Italian having literally glided at him to clap a strongly smelling hand, moist with some pungent fluid, across his mouth.

The action seemed to the lad as instantaneous as its effect. He made a bold brave struggle, uttering a groaning half-stifled sound, and he vainly strove to free himself from the pinioning hands of Saint Simon; while, as if through a misty dream, he saw with starting eyes the dim figure of his master's guest straight before him, and pointing a stiletto at his throat.

The next minute Saint Simon, in obedience to the whispered orders of Leoni, had raised the helpless lad in his arms.

"Is there to be no end to this black night's work?" muttered Francis angrily. "I don't know how it is. I don't think I took too much of my brother Henry's wine, for I wanted to dance; but my head is all confused and strange."

"It was the heat of the room, perhaps, sir," said Leoni.

"Perhaps so. The place was hot and stifling," said Francis. "There are moments when my brain seems to whirl, and things go round. Did I go to sleep?"

"Yes, sir; you were certainly insensible to all that passed for a time."

"Of course I was," said the King angrily, "if I was asleep; but why don't you say so? Here, I don't know what's the matter with me. I must have dreamed that you took me by the wrist and led me along one of these dark galleries, to stop and lean against some great piece of furniture while something was going on. Then all was dark and strange again, and I seemed to be going for ever along dark passages, till I felt the fresh air coming in through an open window looking out upon the terrace. Well, come, Saint Simon; that was not dreaming."

"No, sir," said the young courtier drily.

"You were suffering from excitement, sir," said Leoni quietly. "A touch of vertigo. You have been doing too much of late. But you feel better now?"

"Oh yes, better now—and worse, for I am not certain but what this rough dealing with that boy is not part of another dream."

"That is no dream, sir," said Leoni meaningly; "but be silent and let me guide. We are on our way to make our escape."

"Escape!" whispered back the King excitedly. "Then—then—oh, it's coming back quite clearly. You have tried and failed?"

"Hist! Silence, Comte!" whispered Leoni, in a commanding tone, as he turned upon the speaker, but without taking his hand from Carrbroke's lips. "Our task is nearly at an end, sir, and I will answer to you later on.—Now, Saint Simon, lay the boy quickly on that couch."

"Have you killed him?" whispered Francis.

"No, sir; only plunged him into a deep sleep.—That's right, Saint Simon." And then in a mocking tone, "I am afraid that the faithful sentinel will be in trouble when they find him here asleep. I didn't think to find him here. Now, quick, before we are interrupted again." And he moved a few steps down the gallery, passing his hand along the hangings which veiled the panelled wall. "Somewhere here," he muttered; "somewhere here. I seem to know the place so well."

"Leoni," growled the King, "this night will end in our disgrace, and if it does—"

"Hist, sir! there is a way out here," whispered Leoni. "You hinder and confuse me, and at a time like this, when everything points to success, you—ah, here it is!" For his hand had at last come in contact with the boss, which he turned quickly, pressed hard, making the concealed door swing back, and then stooped in the gloom to raise the arras. "Now, sir; through here—quick!"

"What!" said Francis sharply. "Go through there into what may be a trap?"

Leoni made no reply, but turned to Saint Simon.

"Through with you," he whispered, with a contemptuous ring in his voice. "I would lead, but I must come last to close the way, for they must not know the route we have taken in our flight."

The young officer passed through without a word, and, half ashamed of his hesitation, Francis followed, to have his hand seized in the darkness by Saint Simon, who led him for a few yards along the dark passage, where they stopped listening, to hear Leoni close the door with a faint, half-smothered click.

Leoni joined them the next moment, "Let me pass now and go first," he whispered. "The passage is very narrow, and dark as dark. Thanks, Saint Simon," he continued, as he squeezed by him; and then, as if to himself, but loud enough for Francis to hear, "and then if there is any trap or pitfall in the way I shall be the sufferer, and they will hear me and escape. Ah," he continued to himself, "the way seems easy, and what did the lad say?—that it led after several turns to some stairs which descended to the ground floor, and finally to a door which opened upon a bosky portion of the terrace, and from there led on through various alleys to the river, a flight of steps, and a boat. Ah, a good way to escape; but we must have our horses, and trust to them. Well, once within the grounds—I have not been here all these days for nothing—and it will go hard if I do not find my way to the stabling, where Denis should be waiting with the ready saddled steeds, if he has done his duty as I bade."

As he thought this over to himself, breaking it up, as it were, into sentences between which were whispered words of encouragement to those who followed, bidding them come on, telling them that all was clear, and to beware of "this angle," and the like, he passed on and on with outstretched hands in front, his fingers gliding on either side over smooth stone walls, till at last he was suddenly checked by a blank.

"Ah!" he muttered, as he felt about cautiously. "This should be the top of the steps." And so it proved; for, proceeding carefully from the angle along to his left, his advanced foot, as he glided it over the floor, rested on an edge.

"The topmost stair," he muttered.

Making certain that it was, Leoni uttered fresh warnings, and then began to descend, followed slowly by his companions. At the bottom they proceeded for a while upon the level, when he was brought up short by his fingers encountering on one side the great iron pintle of a hinge, while the other touched the edge of a stone rebate, into which a heavy door was sunk.

"Hah!" he uttered, with a sigh of relief. "Here is the way out of this kingly fox-burrow." And his hand glided down the edge of the door till it came in contact with a huge lock, about which for a few moments his fingers played, while a chill ran through him, filling him with despair, for the truth had come upon him like a flash: there was no key in the lock; the door was fast; and just in this hour of triumph they were as much prisoners as if they were in a cell.

"Well, Leoni," whispered Francis, "why are you stopping? This place makes me feel as if I could not breathe."