I threw the letter down in disgust, and Flavia laughed at me.
Then, growing grave again, she pointed to the other sheet.
"I don't know who that comes from," she said.

"Read it." I knew in a moment.

There was no signature at all this time, but the handwriting was the same as that which had told me of the snare in the summer-house: it was Antoinette de Mauban's.
"I have no cause to love you," it ran, "but God forbid that you should fall into the power of the duke.

Accept no invitations of his.

Go nowhere without a large guard--a regiment is not too much to make you safe.