So! This was the story that the crafty St.Auban had spread abroad to lull suspicion touching the real nature of their presence until their horses should be fit to undertake the return journey to Paris, or until he should have secured the person of M.de Canaples.
Towards eleven o'clock, as the lights in the hostelry opposite were burning low, I descended, and made my way out into the now deserted street.

The troopers had apparently seen fit--or else been ordered--to seek their beds, for the place had grown silent, and a servant was in the act of making fast the door for the night.

The porte-cochere was half closed, and a man carrying a lantern was making fast the bolt, whistling aimlessly to himself.

Through the half of the door that was yet open, I beheld a window from which the light fell upon a distant corner of the courtyard.
I drew near the fellow with the lantern, in whom I recognised Rene, the hostler, and as I approached he flashed the light upon my face; then with a gasp--"M.

de Luynes," he exclaimed, remembering me from the time when I had lodged at the Lys de France, three months ago.
"Sh!" I whispered, pressing a louis d'or into his hand.