"But on the way I mislaid them." "Mislaid them ?" Montsoreau cried, unable to believe his ears; while the smaller dignitaries of the city, the magistrates and churchmen who sat on either side of the table, gaped open-mouthed.

It was incredible! It was unbelievable! Mislay the King's letters! Who had ever heard of such a thing?
"Yes, I mislaid them.

Lost them, if you like it better." "But you jest!" the Lieutenant-Governor retorted, moving uneasily in his chair.

He was a man more highly named for address than courage; and, like most men skilled in finesse, he was prone to suspect a trap.

"You jest, surely, Monsieur! Men do not lose his Majesty's letters, by the way." "When they contain his Majesty's will, no," Tavannes answered, with a peculiar smile.
"You imply, then ?" Count Hannibal shrugged his shoulders, but had not answered when Bigot entered and handed him his sweetmeat box; he paused to open it and select a prune.