Gervais kicked him into fuller consciousness.

“Get up, hound.  It is time to meet Martin.”

The wretch scrambled shakily to his feet, and stood clutching the door-jamb and eying Gervais, terror writ large on his chalky countenance.  Yet there was more than terror in his face; there was the look you see in the eyes of a trapped animal that watches its chance to bite.  Yeux-gris cried out: 

“You dare not send that man, Gervais.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment he is clear of the house he will betray you.  Look at his face.”

“He shall swear on the cross!”

“Aye.  But you cannot trust the oath of such as he.”

“What would you?  We must send.”

“As you will.  But you are mad if you send him.”

Gervais pondered a moment, his slower wits taking in the situation.  Then he seized the man by the collar, fairly flung him across the room into the closet, and bolted the door upon him.

“I will settle with him later.  But you are right.  We cannot send him.”

Yeux-gris burst into laughter.

“My faith! we could not have more trouble if we were heads of the League than this little duel of yours is giving us.  Why, what if we are seen?  I will go.”

Gervais started.

“No; that will not do.”

“Eh, bien, then, what will you propose?”

But it was some one else who proposed.  I said to Yeux-gris: 

“Monsieur, if all your purpose is against Lucas and no other, I am your man.  I will go.”

“What, my stubborn-neck, you?”

“Why, monsieur, I owe you a great debt.  While I thought you meant ill to M. le Duc, I could not serve you.  But this Lucas is another pair of sleeves.  I owe him no allegiance.  Moreover, he nearly killed me this morning.  Therefore I am quite at your disposal.”

“Now, I wonder if you are lying,” said Gervais.

“I do not think he is lying,” Yeux-gris said.  “I trow, Gervais, we have got our messenger.”

“You tell me to beware of Pontou because he hates me, and then would have me trust this fellow?” Gervais demanded with some acumen.

I said:  “Monsieur, you do not seem to understand how I come to make this offer.”

“To get out of the house with a whole skin.”

I had a joy in daring him, being sure of Yeux-gris.

“Monsieur,” I said, “I should be glad to leave this house with my skin whole or broken, so long as I left on my own feet.  But you have mentioned the very reason why I shall not betray you.  I do not love you and I do not love Lucas.  Therefore, if you and M. Lucas are to fight, I ask nothing better than to help the quarrel on.”

He stared at me with an air more of bewilderment than aught else, but Yeux-gris’s ready laughter rang out.

“Bravo, Felix!  I am proud of you.  That is an idea worthy of Caesar!  You would set your enemies to exterminate each other.  And I asked you to be my valet!”