dared betray. "The King has asked for you twice."

"I am going to him. And you? Whither in such a hurry, M. Nancay?"

"To Chatillon."

"On pleasant business?"

"Enough that it is on the King's!" Nancay replied, with unexpected
temper. "I hope that you may find yours as pleasant!" he added with a
grin. And he went on.

The gleam of malice in the man's eye warned Tavannes to pause. He looked
round for some one who might be in the secret, saw the Provost of the
Merchants, and approached him.

"What's amiss, M. le Charron?" he asked. "Is not the affair going as it
should?"

"'Tis about the Arsenal, M. le Comte," the Provost answered busily. "M.
de Biron is harbouring the vermin there. He has lowered the portcullis
and pointed his culverins over the gate and will not yield it or listen
to reason. The King would bring him to terms, but no one will venture
himself inside with the message. Rats in a trap, you know, bite hard,
and care little whom they bite."

"I begin to understand."

"Precisely, M. le Comte. His Majesty would have sent M. de Nancay. But
he elected to go to Chatillon, to seize the young brood there. The