"Assist Sir Hugh into my carriage," said Lady Mary.

"Farewell, mademoiselle!" M. Beaucaire's voice was very faint. His eyes
were fixed upon her face. She did not look toward him.

They were propping Sir Hugh on the cushions. The Duke rode up close to
Beaucaire, but Francois seized his bridle fiercely, and forced the horse
back on its haunches.

"The man's servants worship him," said Molyneux.

"Curse your insolence!" exclaimed the Duke. "How much am I to bear from
this varlet and his varlets? Beaucaire, if you have not left Bath by
to-morrow noon, you will be clapped into jail, and the lashing you
escaped to-night shall be given you thrice tenfold!"

"I shall be-in the--Assemily--Room' at nine--o'clock, one week
--from--to-night," answered the young man, smiling jauntily, though
his lips were colorless. The words cost him nearly all his breath and
strength. "You mus' keep--in the--backgroun', monsieur. Ha, ha!" The
door of the coach closed with a slam.

"Mademoiselle--fare--well!"

"Drive on!" said Lady Mary.

M. Beaucaire followed the carriage with his eyes. As the noise of the
wheels and the hoof-beats of the accompanying cavalcade grew fainter in
the distance, the handkerchief he had held against his side dropped into
the white dust, a heavy red splotch.