the river at St. Cloud they turned south towards Sevres and, as they approached the village, Roger took the opportunity to refer again to his fiction about his mother's illness.
'I am still somewhat undecided,' he said, 'whether to leave Paris to-morrow morning or wait until I receive further news of my mother. On re-reading her letter I think that I at first alarmed myself overmuch; yet I would never forgive myself if she died without my having received her blessing.'
'In your place I should decide nothing until you have slept upon it,' replied the Vicomte. 'Your mind will be clearer after to-night's business is settled.'
Roger's nerves were very taut, and he repressed an hysterical impulse to laugh at his friend's apt choice of expression. The Vicomte referred, of course, to the duel, but 'to-night's business' applied even better to the conference that M. de Rochambeau was to hold at ten o'clock; and whether Roger, if he was still alive, stayed on in Paris or left next day as soon as he had made his excuses to the Marquis, depended on the all-important decision that the Archbishop of Toulouse would be called upon to take that night. However, the Vicomte's advice was on the exact lines that Roger had hoped he would offer, so he accepted it readily.
Half a mile south of Sevres, on the northern outskirts of Bois de Meudon, they came upon the Abbe's coach, drawn up by the side of the road. As they approached it Roger put on his mask, so that the coachman should, not afterwards be able to identify him; then, when they were within a hundred yards, they reined in; the Vicomte took Roger's horse, and he went forward on foot to greet de Perigord.
On reaching the coach, Roger saw that the Abbe was not alone; a short, fat man with a thick bandage over his eyes was leaning back beside him. The Abbe put his finger to his hps to enjoin silence, then got out and, taking Roger's arm, limped along with him, back towards the Vicomte.
'I see you have, after all, brought a friend,' remarked de Perigord, as soon as they were out of earshot of the coach.
' 'Tis M. de la, Tour d'Auvergne,' Roger replied. 'When I told him what was toward he insisted on accompanying me, to give his assistance should any unforeseen circumstance arise. But I see that you, too, are accompanied.'
The Abbe nodded. 'My companion is a doctor. His presence will not make it any the less a matter of murder, if you kill de Caylus, but 'twill at least give the meeting more the appearance of an affair of honour, and less that of a ruffianly attack. I have also brought with me two duelling swords from which M. le Comte can choose his length, in the event of his having only a Court sword with him.'
'You think of everything,' said Roger gratefully; and when the Abbe and the Vicomte had saluted each other, he added: 'There is only one thing now which troubles me, and that gravely. 'Tis unavoidable that de Caylus and his servants will recognise you both. Should his death result from the encounter I fear you may be dragged into the matter as accomplice of his unknown killer. I therefore desire that immediately the Count alights you should both leave us, in order that you may not be witnesses to the actual affray.'
' 'Tis not necessary,' declared the Abb?. 'I propose that afterwards we should say we accompanied you only for the purpose of enabling you to arrange a meeting with the Count at some other time and place. 'Twas not our fault that you lost your tempers there and then, and once the fight was on there was naught we could do to stop it.'
The Vicomte nodded. ' 'Tis an admirable explanation to save us from considerable embarrassment.'
'Aye, 'tis excellent,' Roger agreed. 'But there is yet one more fence. An inquiry is certain to be held. Will the Court not press you both to name the masked man for whom you acted? And 'tis as important for Mademoiselle de Rochambeau's sake as for my own that my identity should remain a secret.'
'I, too, had thought of that,' de Perigord smiled. 'If M. de la Tour d'Auvergne is willing I suggest that we should refuse to speak. We are both nobles, so even the King himself cannot give an order for us to be put to the question. But to indicate a reason for our silence we will give the impression that de Caylus's antagonist was a man of such rank that the maintenance of secrecy is imperative to prevent a scandal. We might even infer that it was one of the younger Princes of the Blood, since if the Court thinks that it will at once do its best to hush the matter up.'
'You relieve me greatly,' said Roger with a sigh. 'As for myself, since seeing you last, Abbe, I have received news that my mother is seriously ill, so I may be leaving Paris on that account to-morrow; but I have not made up my mind as yet whether her case is so bad as to warrant my immediate departure. If, having slept upon it, I decide to go, I may have no further opportunity of thanking you for all you have done for me, so I do so now with all my heart.'
De Perigord bowed. 'I shall regret it if you leave, but I trust that you will write to me in your absence, and soon return to resume a friendship which has given me great pleasure. And now, I think the time has come when we should take up our position on the road that leads to de Caylus's
That evening light gave the early autumn tints of the trees a special loveliness as they proceeded at a gentle trot towards the little village of Chaville, but half a mile before reaching it the coach turned off, entering a forest track that led south-eastwards. Three-quarters of a mile along it they came to an open grassy space, in which there was a crossroad. Here the party halted, the coach drawing up where the two roads met while Roger and the Vicomte remained some way away, edging their horses in among the trees so that they should not be seen by anyone approaching. The Abbe got out of his coach and stood by the roadside, as though in some difficulty and waiting to ask assistance of the next passer-by. Under his arm he carried a lengthy package that looked like a roll of silk, and Roger guessed that the two duelling-swords must be concealed within it.
It was very silent in the forest; only the occasional call of a bird, or a scurry in the undergrowth broke the stillness, and the time of waiting seemed interminable. Roger's thoughts were a confused jumble; Athenais; the fencing-bouts that he had had in the past few days; his boyhood's home at Lymington; the meeting that M. de Rochambeau was to hold that night; his long-past, drunken, midnight brawl with the Chevalier de Roubec; all drifted and mingled in his agitated mind.
At last there came the drumming of horses' hooves from the track to the west of the clearing. Roger craned forward across his horse's neck, straining with impatience to know if it was actually his enemy's coach approaching, or that of some other wayfarer. Suddenly, between the trees, he glimpsed the vehicle; it was a six-horse coach and the postilion was wearing the Comte de Caylus's green and gold livery.
The Abbe stepped forward into the road and waved has package; the coach rumbled to a halt. What happened next Roger and the Vicomte could not see, as de Perigord was on the far side of the coach and the light was no longer strong enough for them to see through its windows at that distance.
To Roger the next three minutes seemed an eternity. Then the Abbe emerged from behind the coach and came limping quickly towards them. He was only half way across the glade when the coach started into motion. Roger and de la Tour d'Auvergne broke cover and cantered out to meet de Perigord.
''Tis of no use!' cried the Abbe. 'I vowed that you were a person of consequence and would reveal yourself if he would step apart—out of sight of his servants. I told him that M. de la Tour d'Auvergne would see fair play, and that we had a doctor with us; but he was adamant. He says he will not fight, were you the King himself.'
De Perigord's coach blocked the way, so de Caylus's coachman had had to urge his horses up on to the grass in order to drive round it, but he was now clear of the other coach and back on the road again beyond it.
Roger cast a reproachful glance at the Abbe. He had banked everything on that subtle tongue of his, which could be either so silver or envenomed at will, taunting de Caylus into accepting the challenge. It now flashed into his mind that de Perigord had, in an endeavour to save him from himself, played a game with him. From the beginning the Abbe' had made it so clear that he did not consider it worth risking death to save a girl from being married, just because she did not like her father's choice of husband for her. It must be that, all along, he had intended to deliver the challenge in a manner which would enable it to be refused without loss of face.
Swift as lightning the Abbe* saw his thought, and waved it aside. 'Ton my honour I did my best for you. I even flung down the swords at his feet, and they are there stilL'
De Caylus's coachman had now got his horses into a fast trot, and the coach was just disappearing among the trees that fringed the track leading to the eastwards.
Suddenly de la Tour d'Auvergne urged his horse forward in pursuit, with a cry of: 'Quick! Follow me! We'll have him yet!'
'Thanks, Abbey cried Roger and, turning his mount, he galloped after the Vicomte.
The coach was only a few hundred yards ahead of them but, at the sound of their horses' hooves thundering
