"Yes."

"I know--" he replied slowly, rubbing his chin and looking at the
ground in thought--"where he had his lodgings in town a while
ago, before--Ah! I do know! I remember," he added, slapping his
thigh, "when I was in Paris a fortnight ago I was told that his
steward had taken lodgings for him in the Rue St. Antoine."

"Good!" I answered overjoyed. "Then we want to dismount there,
if you can guide us straight to the house."

"I can," he replied simply. "And you will not be the worse for
my company. Paris is a queer place when there is trouble to the
fore, but your lordships have got the right man to pilot you
through it."

I did not ask him what trouble he meant, but ran indoors to
buckle on my sword, and tell Marie and Croisette of the ally I
had secured. They were much pleased, as was natural; so that we
took the road in excellent spirits intending to reach the city in
the afternoon. But Marie's horse cast a shoe, and it was some
time before we could find a smith. Then at Etampes, where we
stopped to lunch, we were kept an unconscionable time waiting for
it. And so we approached Paris for the first time at sunset. A
ruddy glow was at the moment warming the eastern heights, and
picking out with flame the twin towers of Notre Dame, and the one
tall tower of St. Jacques la Boucherie. A dozen roofs higher
than their neighbours shone hotly; and a great bank of cloud,
which lay north and south, and looked like a man's hand stretched