It was Saint-Eustache's purpose that I should never reach Toulouse
alive, for in all the world I was the one man he feared, the one
man who would encompass his undoing and destruction by a word. And
so he had resolved and disposed that I should be removed, and to
accomplish this he had left a line of bravi along the road I was to
pass.

He had counted upon my lying the night in one of the intervening
towns, for the journey was over-long to be accomplished at a
stretch, and wherever I might chance to lie, there I should have to
reckon with his assassins. The nearer Toulouse - although I knew
not this - the thicker grew my danger. Into the very thick of it
I rode; in the very thick of it I lay, and all that came of it was
that I obtained possession of one more and overwhelming piece of
evidence against my murderous Chevalier. But I outrun my story.

It had been my purpose to change horses at Grenade, and so push on
and reach Toulouse that very night or in the early hours of the
following morning. At Grenade, however, there were no horses to be
obtained, at least not more than three, and so, leaving the greater
portion of my company behind, I set out, escorted only by Gilles
and Antoine. Night had fallen long before we reached Lespinasse,
and with it came foul weather. The wind rose from the west, grew
to the violence of a hurricane, and brought with it such a deluge
of cold, cutting rain as never had it been my ill-chance to ride
through. From Lespinasse to Fenouillet the road dips frequently,
and wherever this occurred it seemed to us that we were riding in
a torrent, our horses fetlock-deep in mud.