The Keeper of the Seals went white and red by turns, and when I paused there was an impressive silence that lasted for some moments.

At last the President leant over to confer in a whisper with Chatellerault.

Then, in a voice forcedly calm--like the calm of Nature when thunder is brewing--he asked me, "Who do you insist that you are, monsieur ?" "Once already have I told you, and I venture to think that mine is a name not easily forgotten.

I am the Sieur Marcel de Saint-Pol, Marquis of Bardelys, of Bardelys in Picardy." A cunning grin parted his thin lips.
"Have you any witnesses to identify you ?" "Hundreds, monsieur!" I answered eagerly, seeing salvation already within my grasp.
"Name some of them." "I will name one--one whose word you will not dare to doubt." "That is ?" "His Majesty the King.

I am told that he is on his way to Toulouse, and I but ask, messieurs, that you await his arrival before going further with my trial." "Is there no other witness of whom you can think, monsieur?
Some witness that might be produced more readily.