"His power is gone."

"Which seems to me all the more reason why I should stand by him, your Highness. A fallen man has the most need of friends."

"And obtains few. However, I will not attempt to persuade you, but there is one matter in which it may suit your interest to serve us.

Would you like to see your cousin led out to execution?"

"By no means, your Highness! He played me a nasty trick, 'tis true, but I am sure he had no hand in Maubranne's scheme."

"Very well. I will speak plainly to you. This Peleton has told me all he knows. His confession is sufficient to bring your cousin to the block, but it is not enough for my purpose. It strikes at the second man and leaves the first untouched. Now, I would much prefer that it should be the other way, and in this you can a.s.sist me."

"I will enter into no schemes to entrap my cousin, your Highness."

"No, no!" answered the prince pettishly; "you mistake my meaning. I want you to go to him from me, privately. Make him aware that Peleton has confessed and his own head is in danger. Do you understand?"

"So far, your Highness."

"The rest is simple. He can save his life if he chooses, by adding to Peleton's confession. If he will not do this he must take the consequences."

"Your Highness has made a mistake," I answered coldly. "Henri de Lalande is not another Peleton. He will not purchase his life on these terms."

Conde laughed and exclaimed, "At least you can offer him the chance.

Find out where he is hiding and deliver my message. Then he can please himself."

Although feeling sure that Henri would refuse to avail himself of Conde's offer, I allowed myself to be persuaded, and, before leaving the house, agreed to report to my cousin what the prince had said.

I soon discovered that the promise was easier to make than to fulfil.

Henri had vanished, and on all hands I heard rumour of his death. So steady and persistent was the report that even Marie and her aunt, on whom I called the next day, believed it.

"It is quite true," Madame Coutance declared. "De Retz has offered up prayers for the repose of his soul, which he would hardly venture to do if he believed your cousin was still alive. I met Madame de Chevreuse last night and she informed me that the Abbe is disconsolate."

I did not argue the point, though in my own mind I concluded that De Retz was a very clever schemer, and that these reports of Henri's death were circulated in order to deceive Conde.

In the afternoon I paid a visit to the astrologer's house, and by dint of bribing the porter gained admittance. Fortunately for the learned Martin the fire had not reached his rooms, though some parts of the buildings were damaged. The philosopher received me very affably, and spoke in feeling terms of my cousin's illness, but when I asked if Henri would see me the wily old fellow regarded me with the utmost astonishment.

"M. de Lalande is not here!" he observed. "Did you not know? How strange! Why, he had left before D'Artagnan arrived with his musketeers to search the house. It appears that your cousin has offended Conde, or the Duke of Orleans, or some powerful person, and is in danger of being imprisoned."

"It is said in the city that he is dead."

"Dead? I hope not, but in his weak state the hurried flight may easily have proved fatal. The soldiers were sent to arrest him, but his faithful servant, by some means, heard of their coming, and smuggled his master out just in time."

"Pillot?"

"Yes, he is a trusty fellow."

"Where was my cousin taken?"

"Pillot did not trust me with his secret," said the astrologer, smiling blandly, "and I have not seen him since."

"But you can guess where he is to be found?"

"Indeed, I have not the least notion, monsieur," and the bland smile became still more bland, "but as to the rumour of your cousin's death I would fain hope that it is not true."

Remembering the nature of my last visit with Mazarin to this house, I placed small faith in Martin's remarks, but as it was clearly impossible to obtain any further information I took my leave, resolving to discover for myself what really had become of Henri. Raoul joined me in the search, but for a long time our efforts were fruitless. It became, indeed, difficult not to believe in my cousin's death. Many even of Conde's friends accepted the report as true, while the Abbe's henchmen openly mourned the loss of their brilliant leader. Still I was not entirely satisfied, especially as no trace could be found of Pillot.

During one of our expeditions we came across Pierre and Francois, the one grim and hostile, the other smiling and communicative.

"Monsieur is right," replied Francois in answer to my questioning, "M.

de Lalande did leave the astrologer's house; I helped to carry him. He was ill--dying, I think. We took him to a safe place. Pillot stayed to nurse him and I left them. He instructed me to go because the soldiers were watching."

"Could you show us this house?" I asked.

"Monsieur would have his journey in vain. M. de Lalande is not there now. Pillot took him, or his dead body, away in a carriage."

"Where is Pillot now?"

"Ah! monsieur asks a question! Perhaps he is dead too! I have not seen him since."

For a moderate consideration Francois agreed to point out the haunts which his former ally had been in the habit of frequenting. Such dens of vice and misery, where crime, starvation, and disease went hand in hand, I had never beheld. I wondered how any one could live in such noisome places even for a day. The sufferings of the people were terrible; a dreadful pestilence mowed them down in scores. Small marvel that a clever agitator like De Retz could obtain hundreds of willing tools ready for any act of bloodshed and violence.

Always hungry, always in filth and rags, scarred and disfigured by disease, their numbers decimated many times over by an ever-present plague, what could they know of the sanct.i.ty of life? Death walked and talked with them continually; a familiar guest, eating and drinking by their side like a trusty comrade--feared by none, welcomed by many.

But for Francois we should never have left these dens alive.

With all our care and trouble we could obtain no information. My cousin had vanished so completely that I gradually became convinced of his death, and an accidental meeting with De Retz confirmed me in this belief.

Coming one day from the neighbourhood of Notre Dame, I met the Abbe face to face. He stopped involuntarily and his face became white.

"De Lalande?" he gasped. "De Lalande? Is it possible?"

"Albert de Lalande," I said.

"Ah," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "Henri's cousin! I had forgotten you, and it is a shock to one's nerves to meet a dead man in the flesh."

"Is my cousin really dead, monsieur?"

"_Ma foi!_ What a question! Why do you ask?"

"Because I imagined the report had been spread about to deceive Conde."

"No," he replied, showing no offence at my remark, "I would it were so, but M. Beauchamp's sword bit deeply. Pillot should have informed you, but he has had much to do. He has taken his master's body home for burial. I feel his loss greatly. Your cousin was an admirable man, and I shall never find his equal. But what of yourself? Have you taken service with Conde?"

"No, monsieur, I still fight for the Throne."

"And for Albert de Lalande! Well, well, as long as you steer clear of me I wish you no harm."

"Monsieur is pleased to be gracious," I returned with a mocking bow.

"I am indeed grateful."

The little rogue's eyes twinkled brightly, and he went away laughing.