But at the name of the Count of Saint-Pol he took a breath, at the mention of his part in the business he took a deep breath, and when he heard that this man was yet at Tours, he got up from his chair and struck the table with his closed fist.

Knowing him as I did, I considered that the weather looked black for Saint-Pol.
'Next day Count Richard moved his hosts out of the fields by Poietiers to the very borders of his country, and calling a halt at Saint-Gilles and making snug against alarms, himself, with my lord Gaston of Bearn, with the Dauphin of Auvergne also, and the Viscount of Beziers, crossed the march into Touraine, and so came to Tours about a week before Christmas, the weather being bright and frosty.' It seems he did not take the abbot with him, for the rest of the good man's record is full of morality, a certain sign that facts failed him.
There may have been reasons; at any rate the Count went into Tours in a trenchant humour, with ears keen and wide for all shreds of report.

And he got enough and to spare.

In the wet market-place, on the flags of the great churchyard, by the pillars of the nave, in the hall, in the chambers, in the inn-galleries; wherever men met or women whispered in each other's necks, there flew the names of Alois, King Philip's sister, and of King Henry, Count Richard's father.

Richard made short work, short and dry.