doing here? I had supposed you to be a man of sense, and on the way to
Spain. And my word of honor, you stick your head down the lion's
mouth! Follow your nose, follow your nose; it is none of my affair."
And the gruff old captain passed on down the stairs.

The Chevalier stared after him in bewilderment. Spain? . . . Weary of
life? What had happened?

"Monsieur du Cévennes?" cried a thin voice at his elbow.

The Chevalier turned and beheld Bernouin, the cardinal's valet.

"Ah!" said the Chevalier. Here was a man to explain the captain's
riddle. "Will you announce to his Eminence that I have returned from
Rome, and also explain why you are looking at me with such bulging
eyes? Am I a ghost?" The Chevalier, being rich, was one of the few
who were never overawed by the grandeur of Mazarin's valet. "What is
the matter?"

"Matter?" repeated the valet. "Matter? Nothing, Monsieur, nothing!"
quickly. "I will this instant announce your return to monseigneur."

"One would think that I had been trying to run away," mused the
Chevalier, following the valet.


Meanwhile a lackey dressed in no particular livery entered the Hôtel of
the Silver Candlestick and inquired for Monsieur Breton, lackey to
Monsieur le Chevalier du Cévennes. He was directed to the floor above.
On hearing a knock, Breton hastily closed the book he was reading and