tell you that the Marquis believes him to be dead. He was cut down
for dead, and when we discovered that he still lived it was
Mademoiselle who prevailed upon us to save him. She is paying us
to keep the secret, but not a fortune would tempt me if I thought
the Seigneur were ever likely to hear of it. He must be got away
from Bellecour; indeed, he must be got out of Picardy at once,
Monsieur. And you must promise me that this shall be done or we
will carry him back to the Chateau and tell the Marquis that he
has suddenly revived. I must insist, Monsieur; for if ever it
should transpire that he was not dead the Seigneur would hang us."

The stranger's weak eyes seemed to kindle in anger, and his lips
curled until they exaggerated the already preposterous tilt of his
nose.

"He would hang you, eh?" said he. "Ma foi, Duhamel, we shall change
all this very soon, I promise you."

"God knows it needs changing," growled Duhamel. "It seems that it
was only in the Old Testament that Heaven interfered with human
iniquity. Why it does not rain fire and brimstone on the Chateau
de Bellecour passes the understanding of a good Christian. I'll
swear that in neither Sodom nor Gomorrah was villainy more rampant.

The stranger plucked at his sleeve to remind him of the presence
of the servants from the Chateau. Duhamel turned to them.

"I will keep him concealed here until he is able to get about,"
he assured them. "Then I shall find him the means to leave the
province."