“This is strange news!” I said.

“Your father must have gone away that night, monsieur, for next day the castle was deserted.  And it was well he did not stay longer,” the old man concluded, with a wise shake of the head.

“Why?” I asked anxiously.

“The next night, monsieur, we were roused from sleep by the tramping of soldiers.  I ran to the window and looked out.  There were more than two hundred of them marching through the village.  On arriving at the castle, they found they were too late.  Their leader was very angry; he raved like a madman.”

“Did you go to listen to him?”

“No, monsieur, he slept here at the inn.  The next day he had all the villagers drawn up outside, and made them a grand speech.  Had it not been for his soldiers, I think he would not have left the village alive.”

“Then he made the good folk angry?”

“Monsieur, it was terrible.  He said the Sieur Le Blanc was a traitor to the king, that he had harboured one of the king’s enemies, and that his life was forfeit to the law.  Any man was to shoot him like a dog.  He said all this, monsieur, and more, much more.  Then he called in the leading men one by one, and questioned them closely, but they knew nothing.”

“He should have asked you, Pierre.”

“He did, monsieur, but he said I was a stupid dolt, with no more sense than one of my own casks!” and the old man broke into a hearty laugh.

“You had a guest the night I went away; he left early in the morning.  Who was he?”

“I do not know, monsieur.  He was a stranger who wished to learn all he could about the chief folk in the district; but he was an enemy to the Cause, and he did not carry away much information.  Old Pierre was too dense to understand his questions,” and the old man chuckled again.

“Well,” I said after a pause, “since it is useless going to the castle, I must put up here for the night.  I am tired and hungry.  Get me some supper and a bed; meanwhile I must attend to my horse; the poor beast has carried me far.”

Pierre’s information was very disquieting, but, as my father had evidently received timely warning, I trusted he had effected his escape, and that by this time he was safely sheltered behind the strong walls of La Rochelle.

When Pierre brought in the supper I asked after Jacques, and, hearing he had not returned, told the landlord to inform him of what had happened.  Whether he would endeavour to get into Rochelle or not I left to himself.

I ate my supper slowly, my mind fully occupied with this extraordinary occurrence.  Why had my father thus suddenly been marked down for vengeance?  He was a noted Huguenot, ’twas true, but he was not a leader such as Conde or the Admiral.  He had sheltered the wounded messenger, and had allowed me to carry the warning to Tanlay.

This, of course, was sufficient to incur the Queen-Mother’s displeasure; but how had the knowledge reached her?  Who was there at Le Blanc able and willing to betray our secrets?  Not a soul, unless——!  Ah, the name leaped of itself into my mind.  Who was the maker of mischief but Etienne Cordel?