"Well, my friend," said he, "you have an adventure on hand now that ought to keep your time fairly occupied! I don't understand it in the least, but it is plain you have become an important person. There is one thing I would like to know, but don't answer if you would rather not. Are you in Mazarin's secrets?"

"I have heard nothing of the Cardinal since my visit to Aunay."

"Then that notion falls to the ground. I thought De Retz might imagine you could give him some useful information. And yet, I don't know.

People say he is already in the Queen's confidence."

"Well," I remarked, "if the first chapter is exciting, what do you think of the second?" and I showed him the warning note, which he read with a strangely puzzled air.

"Where did this come from?" he asked, and I informed him, adding that the messenger was a total stranger whom I should be unable to recognise.

"Still," said he, "it shows there is some one in the Abbe's confidence who wishes you well. I wonder if it can be Madame de Chevreuse? She is concerned with most of his plans."

"I have not met her since the night of the ball and besides, this is a man's writing."

"That can be accounted for easily; she employs several secretaries."

I shook my head, saying Madame de Chevreuse was not likely to interest herself in my welfare.

After walking about the room for a time, Raoul stopped and exclaimed, "Suppose we are looking at the matter from the wrong side? How can you be certain this note comes from a friend? It may be a trick to lure you away from Paris!"

"If so, it will fail. I will not leave the city for an hour, even were Turenne to offer me the command of a regiment."

"Why not accept service with the Duke? You would be in a much safer position."

"No. I will see this thing through alone. I will not budge a foot for all the fighting priests in the country."

"Don't be over venturesome. De Retz is a crafty foe and is playing just now for high stakes. If rumour speaks true, he is going to try a fall with Conde himself. Now I must set Armand at liberty, but I will come to your rooms at the first opportunity. Meanwhile, if you require help, a note will bring me instantly."

I returned home still in a state of bewilderment. The mystery was as dark as ever, and, cudgel my brains as I would, I could throw no light on it.

That same evening I laid the case before John Humphreys, but naturally he was unable to offer any explanation.

"Show me an enemy," said he, "and I will stand up against him, but I am a poor hand at fighting shadows. However, it is plain enough that some one has marked you down, and you will have to walk warily."

That, indeed, was the only advice any one could offer. The thing which troubled me most at this time was the presence of the spy in the Rue Crillon. The ladies apparently had not noticed him, so I said nothing to them, but continued to keep a strict watch on the mysterious stranger who night after night prowled about near their house. What he expected to gain was difficult to imagine, as he neither followed Madame Coutance abroad nor attempted to molest her. At first I thought him a clumsy fellow, but twice when I tried to catch him he vanished cleverly down the narrow streets.

One evening, while strolling carelessly along the Rue Pierre, I met my cousin Henri. He was wearing a long mantle with a hood, and appeared in a great hurry. To my surprise, however, he stopped and exclaimed quite cordially, "Ah, cousin, you are a stranger! I have not seen you for a long time. I was sorry to hear of Peleton's mad prank. Were you hurt?"

"No," said I, rather shortly.

"You are a lucky fellow, Albert. For a lad from the country, you have done well. _Peste!_ You have made quite a splash in the world, and I am proud of my cousin."

"You do me great honour," said I, with a mocking bow.

"Not more than you deserve. By the way, is it true that you have joined Conde's party?"

"Why?"

"Because you were with his mob when Madame Coutance behaved so stupidly."

"I did my best to save a woman from being torn to pieces--nothing more."

"It was very gallant of you," and then, as an afterthought, "so you still fancy there is a chance of Mazarin's return?"

"There may be, or not. I only know that I am pledged to a.s.sist him, and that the De Lalandes have been taught to keep their word."

"Quite right!" returned Henri, gaily. "Well, adieu, my faithful cousin! Your constancy is touching, and I hope it may bring you good fortune, but of that I am doubtful," and, with a careless laugh, he hurried on.

"Planning some fresh mischief!" I muttered, and dismissed the incident from my mind.

Nearly a week had now pa.s.sed since the receipt of the mysterious note, and nothing of consequence had happened. Every day I went into the streets without disguise or attempt at concealment, and no one paid any attention to my doings.

About this time the city was considerably agitated, and filled with all sorts of conflicting rumours. Among other things it was hinted that Mazarin, having re-entered France, was marching at the head of a foreign army on Paris, with the avowed object of razing it to the ground.

De Retz, laughing in his sleeve, went about attended by a numerous and well-armed retinue to protect him from being murdered; Conde followed his example, and the _pet.i.ts maitres_ swaggered more than ever, especially when they met the friends of De Retz; at the Hotel Vendome, the Duke of Beaufort stayed in bed, having, according to rumour, been poisoned; while Gaston of Orleans was popularly supposed to have joined four separate plots in one day, and betrayed them all to the Queen before night. Thus far, however, nothing serious had resulted from these wonderful doings, and I was chiefly concerned with my own private affairs.

"It seems to me," I said to Raoul one night, as we walked together toward the Rue Crillon, "that we have been making a mountain out of a mole-hill. More than a week has pa.s.sed now since the warning, and I am none the worse."

"Yet the spy still keeps watch?"

"He was there last night, but I could not get near him. Perhaps you may have better luck."

The man was in his usual place, and I pointed him out to Raoul, whispering, "That is he. Are you acquainted with him?"

"No. He belongs to the cla.s.s that either De Retz or Conde can buy by the dozen. Don't look that way. Let us cross the road. I will slip through this alley and enter the street at the other end; then we shall have him between us."

Unfortunately for our purpose the fellow was particularly wide-awake, and as Raoul appeared at the corner he moved away. Following cautiously, we kept him in sight for a good distance, but finally he disappeared in a maze of alleys.

"_Peste!_" exclaimed my comrade, discontentedly, "he is an artful rascal. If we could catch him he might be able to tell us all we want to learn. There must be some reason for his actions. Is he always alone?"

"Always."

"We must set a trap for him."

"Let me try once more by myself. I dislike the idea of being beaten by a spy."

"As you will; and if you fail, I will borrow some troopers from the Luxembourg and lay him by the heels. At all events the fellow will know who pays him."

The next night I set off for the Rue Crillon, and, after spending an hour or two with Marie and her aunt, went back into the street. My man, as usual, was in full view, and it appeared to me, rather overdid his part, as if he was anxious to attract my attention.

However, there was not much leisure for reflection, and I walked quickly and boldly towards him, when he immediately made off. Angry at being baulked so often, and determined to discover his business, I followed sharply, and nearly caught him at the bottom of the narrow street running at right angles to the Rue Crillon. A stupid charcoal-burner lost me my advantage here, but perceiving which way the spy went I hurried on in the same direction.

For half an hour I patiently tracked my quarry, through a network of narrow streets and alleys crossing and re-crossing each other like an Eastern puzzle. By this time I was hopelessly astray, never having been in that quarter, which was one of the worst in the city. Under other circ.u.mstances I should have feared to trust myself in those horrible courts, but now I did not even remember the danger.

Presently the spy himself seemed doubtful as to which turning to take.

He stood a moment in apparent hesitation, but, finding me close on his heels, darted as if at random up a narrow entrance. It was a _cul-de-sac_ containing perhaps half a dozen houses, and I chuckled inwardly on finding how completely he had trapped himself. I could not have desired a better place for my purpose. The court was very quiet; the houses were old and dilapidated, and the inmates had either gone to bed or had not returned from their nightly wanderings. We two had a clear stage to ourselves.

The man was a regular coward after all. He looked this way and that with frightened eyes, ran on a few paces as if hoping to find a way out, came back, and finally made a dash to get past me.