“You have the papers?” he asked.  “Give them into the Admiral’s own hands, and remember that a single hour’s delay may ruin the Cause.”

“He carries a full purse,” said my father, “and can buy fresh horses on the road.”

Wishing the sick man good-bye, and bidding him be of good courage, I descended to the courtyard, where Jacques awaited me with the horses.

“Do not be sparing of your money, Edmond; if need arises, spend freely,” my father advised.  “And now, may God bless you, and bring you safely through.  Do not forget, Jacques, that a shrewd brain will pay better than a strong arm in this venture.”

“We will be as prudent as the Admiral himself, monsieur,” declared Jacques, as he vaulted into the saddle; and, with a last word of counsel from my father, we crossed the drawbridge and rode down the hill to the high road.

“’Tis a long journey before us, monsieur, and an unexpected one,” observed my companion, as, turning sharply to the left, we rode through the still sleeping village. “’Tis odd what a chance encounter may bring about; but for the Sieur’s meeting with the wounded man we should still be snug abed.  There is some one stirring at the inn.  Old Pierre will be none too pleased at having guests who rise so early; but there, ’twill be another coin or so to add to his hoard.”

“Pierre is a wise man,” I said.

“I think not, monsieur.  There is little wisdom in saving money for others to spend.  The king’s troopers will ride through here some day, and Pierre will be a cunning man if they do not strip him as bare as a trussed fowl.  ’Tis more satisfactory these days to spend one’s money while one has the chance.  And things will never be any better until they send the Italian woman out of the country.”

Jacques generally spoke of the Queen-Mother as the Italian woman, and he regarded her as the chief cause of all our troubles.

“She cares for no one but herself,” he continued, “not even for the boy king, and the Guises have her under their thumb.  What with them and her Italian favourites there is no room in France for an honest Frenchman.  Listen, some one rides behind us!  ’Tis the early riser from the inn perhaps.  Faith, he is a keen judge of horseflesh.”

“And he has a firm seat,” I remarked, glancing round.  “He will overtake us in a few minutes.  Shall we quicken our pace?”

“No, monsieur.  If he is a friend there is no need; should he be an enemy ’twill but arouse suspicion.”

“Good-day, messieurs,” cried a pleasant voice, “I trust we are well met.  I am a stranger in the district, and wish to discover the whereabouts of one Etienne Cordel.  He is an advocate from Paris, but he owns a small estate in the neighbourhood.”

“A tall man,” said Jacques, “with a nose like a hawk’s beak, and eyes that look in opposite directions?”

“Faith, my friend,” laughed the stranger jovially, “you have his picture to a nicety.  That is Etienne Cordel.  Are you acquainted with him?”