“What do you want of him?” I asked in turn.

“Never you mind.  I want him.”

“But Mayenne said he should not be touched,” I cried.  “The Duke of Mayenne said himself he should not be touched.”

“I know nothing about that,” he returned, a trifle more civilly than he had spoken.  “I have naught to do with the Duke of Mayenne.  If he is friends with your master, M. de Mar may not stay behind bars very long.  But I have the governor’s warrant for his arrest.”

“On what charge?”

“A trifle.  Merely murder.”

“Murder?”

“Yes, the murder of a lackey, one Pontou.”

“But that is ridiculous!” I cried.  “M. le Comte did not—­”

I came to a halt, not knowing what to say.  “Lucas—­Paul de Lorraine killed him,” was on the tip of my tongue, but I choked it down.  To fling wild accusations against a great man’s man were no wisdom.  By accident I had given the officer the impression that we were friends of Mayenne.  I should do ill to imperil the delusion.  “M. le Comte—­” I began again, and again stopped.  I meant to say that monsieur had never left the inn last night; he could have had no hand in the crime.  Then I bethought me that I had better not know the hour of the murder.  “M. le Comte is a very grand gentleman; he would not murder a lackey,” I got out at last.

“You can tell that to the judges,” the captain rejoined.

At this I felt ice sliding down my spine.  To be arrested as a witness was the last thing I desired.

“I know nothing whatever about it,” I cried.  “He seemed to me a very fine gentleman.  But you can’t always tell about these nobles.  The Comte de Mar, I’ve only known him twenty-four hours.  Until he engaged me as lackey, yesterday afternoon, I had never laid eyes on him.  I know not what he has been about.  He engaged me yesterday to carry a message for him to the Hotel St. Quentin.  I came into Paris but night before last, and put up at the Amour de Dieu in the Rue Coupejarrets.  Yesterday he employed me to run his errands, and last night brought me here with him.  But I had never seen him till this time yesterday.  I know nothing about him save that he seemed a very free-handed, easy master.”

To a nice ear I might have seemed a little too voluble, but the captain only laughed at my patent fright.

“Oh, you need not look so whey-faced; I have no warrant for your arrest.  I dare say you are as great a rogue as he, but the order says nothing about you.  Don’t swoon away; you are in no peril.”

I was stung to be thought such a craven, but I pocketed the insult, and merely answered: 

“I assure you, monsieur, I know naught of the matter.”  Yesterday I would have blurted out to him the whole truth; decidedly my experiences were teaching me something.

“Come now, I can’t fool about here all day,” he said impatiently.  “Tell me where that precious master of yours is now.  And be quicker about it than this old mule.”