Toward midnight I was crossing the hall in order to speak with Felix and my sister, who were standing with the Countess Guichy and several ladies, when I caught sight of Renaud L’Estang.  He had been in attendance upon Monseigneur, but was now at liberty.  Turning aside, I went to meet him, intending to thank him for his timely warning.

“Ah, monsieur,” said he pleasantly, “I have been looking for you.  I have something to say, and one can talk without fear in a crowded room.  But do not let people guess by your face that I am saying anything serious.  That lady,” and he glanced toward Jeanne, “is, I believe, your sister?”

“Yes,” I replied, wondering what he could say which concerned Jeanne.

“Listen,” he continued.  “I have tried to keep the promise made to you that miserable night in Rochelle.”

“You have more than kept your promise,” I interrupted eagerly.

“I have done what I could.  It is not much, but enough perhaps to show I am your friend.  Now, ask me no questions; I cannot reply to them; but for the love you bear your sister answer what I ask you.  Can you make an excuse to leave Paris?”

“And desert my patron?”

“No,” said he thoughtfully, “it is too much to expect from a man of honour; but there is your servant!  He is shrewd and capable, and will fight to the death in your sister’s defence.”

“Yes,” I exclaimed, “you judge him rightly.”

“Do not start; keep a smile on your face, but understand all the time that I am speaking of a matter of life and death.  Invent what excuse you like, but to-morrow morning send Jacques to Rochelle in charge of your sister, and let him make no delay on the road.  Brush aside all objections; do not be influenced by any one; follow my advice, and I pledge my word that you will not regret it.”

“This is somewhat startling!” I exclaimed; “you must have some good reasons for such advice as this.  Can you not trust me?”

“Monsieur,” he replied a little bitterly, “I have already told you that I have my own code of honour.  It sounds strange from the lips of an adventurer, does it not?  But I cannot betray the man whose bread I eat.  As a matter of fact, I know nothing; to-morrow I may know more—­that is why I am speaking to-night.  Now I must leave you, but I say again with all the earnestness I possess, send your sister to Rochelle in the morning, even if you have to force her to go!”

Raising his voice he uttered some commonplace about the brilliancy of the scene, smiled brightly, waved his hand, and disappeared, leaving me lost in wonder and perplexity.

What was the meaning of this strange warning?  He was in deadly earnest; of that there could be no doubt, and yet he refused to give me the slightest clue to the mystery.  But perhaps that very refusal would help to reveal the secret!  I must discuss the matter with Felix, and meanwhile try to bear myself as if nothing had happened.