"Oh, Lucas!" I said. "I know nothing of him. He is new with the duke
since my time. I do not owe him anything, save a grudge for that blow
this morning. Mon dieu, monsieur, I am thankful to you for befriending
me. Dying for Monsieur is all in a day's work; we expect to do that.
But, my faith, if I had died just now, it would have been for Lucas."

At this moment a long groan came from the end of the room. We turned;
the lackey was waking from his swoon, under the ministration of Gervais.
He opened his eyes; their glance was dull till they fell upon his
master. And then at once they looked venomous.

Gervais kicked him into fuller consciousness.

"Get up, hound. It is time to meet Martin."

The wretch scrambled shakily to his feet, and stood clutching the
door-jamb and eying Gervais, terror writ large on his chalky
countenance. Yet there was more than terror in his face; there was the
look you see in the eyes of a trapped animal that watches its chance to
bite. Yeux-gris cried out:

"You dare not send that man, Gervais."

"Why not?"

"Because the moment he is clear of the house he will betray you. Look at
his face."

"He shall swear on the cross!"