“Take him to the Centenier under the Gallows-hill,” said Alain, availing himself of the rising tide.  “Or, stay”—­as he caught a look from Querto, in which agony and reproach were mingled—­“If he prefers it, carry him on board the first ship bound for France.  I will answer for his passage money.  Handle him as he deserves.”

To hear was to obey with the angry islanders.  Hustled and disarmed, bonnetted and bound with handkerchiefs, Querto was borne off, howling and cursing.  In a few minutes all was once more still in and about the house, only the good watch dog had suffered.  He would never sound another alarm.  One strobe of Querto’s sabre had severed his faithful head from his body.

Alain returned to the parlour.

Reassured by his telling them the story, they were easily persuaded to retire to their chamber.  Alain’s next care was to seek the king’s hiding place.

“You must stay where you are till morning, sir,” he said, without entering.  “I will watch over the only way by which any one can approach you.”

“As you will,” cried Charles from within.  “But hark ye, captain! methinks a pint of claret would not be amiss, warm with a spiced toast floating on the top.”

The man and his wife who waited on the ladies had been spirited away by some intrigue on the part of Benoist, and the king would have to pass the night alone in the small kitchen.

More amused than disgusted with the royal levity, Le Gallais—­who knew the ways of the house—­brewed the desired tankard, and, returning to the kitchen, set the hot drink upon the table; then wishing the king “good repose;” left him to his meditations.

On returning to the parlour, Le Gallais carefully secured both the inner and the outer door, put a log upon the fire, looked to the priming of his pistols, laid his sword upon the table, threw a cloak over his knees, sate up in his arm chair with a look of resolute vigilance, and sank into a profound sleep, from which he did not wake till day streamed through the casement.  His first care was to go to the stable and release Benoist, but that slippery rascal, after his wont, had released himself.  His gag and bandage lay upon the stable floor, along with a bar shaken out of the loophole in the wall, leaving an aperture just large enough for a lean man to push through.

Returning to the house, Le Gallais found the graceless monarch seated at table before a steaming bowl of porridge, while Rose was pouring him some cider.

“Odsfish,” he heard Charles say, “I owe Captain Le Gallais thanks for a fair deliverance, and you, madame, a courteous usage under difficulty.  But a la guerre comme a la guerre, and I have slept in worse conditions than those of your house, madame.  Let me but bid farewell to your sweet sister, and I will be back in the castle before my absence has been observed.  Ha!  Captain Le Gallais, you must be my guide back to the quay.  This part is strange to me.”