.

OF HOW A WHIP PROVED A BETTER ARGUMENT THAN A TONGUE.
"I crave Monsieur's pardon, but there is a gentleman below who desires to speak with you immediately." "How does this gentleman call himself, M.l'Hote ?" "M.

le Marquis de St.Auban," answered the landlord, still standing in the doorway.
It wanted an hour or so to noon on the day following that of St.Auban's arrival at Blois, and I was on the point of setting out for the chateau on an errand of warning.
It occurred to me to refuse to see the Marquis, but remembering betimes that from your enemy's speech you may sometimes learn where to look for his next attack, I thought better of it and bade my host admit him.
I strode over to the fire, and stirring the burning logs, I put my back to the blaze, and waited.
Steps sounded on the stairs; there was the shuffling of the landlord's slippered feet and the firm tread of my visitor, accompanied by the jingle of spurs and the clank of his scabbard as it struck the balustrade.

Then my door was again opened, and St.Auban, as superbly dressed as ever, was admitted.
We bowed formally, as men bow who are about to cross swords, and whilst I waited for him to speak, I noted that his face was pale and bore the impress of suppressed anger.
"So, M.de Luynes, again we meet." "By your seeking, M.le Marquis." "You are not polite." "You are not opportune." He smiled dangerously.
"I learn, Monsieur, that you are a daily visitor at the Chateau de Canaples." "Well, sir, what of it ?" "This.

I have been to Canaples this morning and, knowing that you will learn anon, from that old dotard, what passed between us, I prefer that you shall hear it first from me." I bowed to conceal a smile.
"Thanks to you, M.de Luynes, I was ordered from the house.