I must put up here for the night. I am tired and hungry. Get me some
supper and a bed; meanwhile I must attend to my horse; the poor beast
has carried me far."

Pierre's information was very disquieting, but, as my father had
evidently received timely warning, I trusted he had effected his escape,
and that by this time he was safely sheltered behind the strong walls of
La Rochelle.

When Pierre brought in the supper I asked after Jacques, and, hearing he
had not returned, told the landlord to inform him of what had happened.
Whether he would endeavour to get into Rochelle or not I left to
himself.

I ate my supper slowly, my mind fully occupied with this extraordinary
occurrence. Why had my father thus suddenly been marked down for
vengeance? He was a noted Huguenot, 'twas true, but he was not a leader
such as Condé or the Admiral. He had sheltered the wounded messenger,
and had allowed me to carry the warning to Tanlay.

This, of course, was sufficient to incur the Queen-Mother's displeasure;
but how had the knowledge reached her? Who was there at Le Blanc able
and willing to betray our secrets? Not a soul, unless----! Ah, the name
leaped of itself into my mind. Who was the maker of mischief but Etienne
Cordel?

I put together all that I had heard of this man whom Jacques detested so
thoroughly. He was a lawyer, who, by some means, had amassed wealth and
lands. Numerous stories, all evil, were related of him, and it was
rumoured that he had long served as a useful tool to persons in high