“Remember my warning!” he whispered, “and keep free from Cordel’s clutches.”

“A short visit, monsieur,” commented Jacques, as L’Estang rode off.

“But full of interest, nevertheless.  My visitor came all the way from Paris in this wretched weather and at some risk to himself to warn me against Etienne Cordel”; and thereupon I told Jacques the story, though without revealing the adventurer’s identity.

“The tale rings true,” said he, “but we ought to be a match for the lawyer’s cut-throats.  ’Tis a pity that Cordel won’t give us a chance of measuring swords with him.”

“He knows better how to handle the goose-quill,” I laughed, leaving Jacques to fasten the gate, and returning to my room.

CHAPTER XIX

Who Killed the Courier?

L’Estang’s information caused me a certain amount of anxiety, and during the next few weeks I was rarely abroad except for a ride in the broad daylight.  Cordel, who was still at home, occasionally came into the village, but nothing happened that served to show he was pushing on his plot.

Indeed, as Jacques pointed out one evening when we were discussing the matter, the lawyer had a difficult game to play.  He could strike at me only outside the castle walls, while the villagers were my devoted friends, and every man of them would be eager to put me on my guard.

But Cordel’s threats had apparently ended in smoke.  Week followed week; the old year gave place to the new, and I remained unmolested.

About the beginning of February, 1572, I received another letter from Jeanne, informing me that her royal mistress had finally consented to journey to Blois, and that they would set out in a week or two at the latest.  She also added, in a brief postscript at the end, that Roger Braund intended to pay us a visit before the summer ended.

About the same time a message reached me from Felix, who was at Blois again, in attendance on our patron.  The king, he wrote, was more than ever fixed on the marriage of his sister Margaret to Henry of Beam, though the Pope and all the Guises were bitterly opposed to the match.  “But the marriage is certain to take place,” he concluded, “and then, if not before, I trust Charles will see that justice is done you.”

“’Twas from Monsieur Bellievre, Jacques,” I said, when the messenger had departed with my reply; “he is at Blois once more.  There is to be a marriage between the king’s sister and our Prince Henry, and the Court is filled with excitement.  Do you know, Jacques, I am getting weary of this life.  If we were at Blois I should have a chance of meeting the king and pressing my claims.  The longer we stay here, the more likely I am to be forgotten.”

“True, monsieur; in my opinion it was a mistake to come.  When one is not in sight, one is not in mind, and the Admiral has many weighty matters to think about.”