"Then, sir, what do you intend to do with me?" D'Entragues asked,
the air of fierceness with which he looked from me to the six men who
remained barely disguising his apprehensions.
"That depends, M. Louis," I replied, recurring to my usual tone of
politeness, "on your answers to three questions."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Ask them," he said, curtly.
"Do you deny that you have laid an ambush for the king on the road which
passes the Rock of the Serpents?"
"Absolutely."
"Or that you were yesterday at an inn near here in converse with three
men?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you deny that there is such an ambush laid?"
"Absolutely," he repeated, with scorn. "It is an old wives' story. I
would stake my life on it."
"Enough," I answered, slowly. "You have been your own judge. The evening
grows cold, and as you are my prisoner I must have a care of you.
Kindly put on this cloak and precede me, M. d'Entragues. We return to
Fontainebleau by the Rock of the Serpents."
His eyes meeting mine, it seemed to me that for a second he held his
breath and hesitated, while a cold shadow fell and dwelt upon his sallow
face. But the stern, gloomy countenances of La Trape and Boisrose,
who had ridden up to his rein, and were awaiting his answer with their
swords drawn, determined him. With a loud laugh he took the cloak. "It
is new, I hope?" he said, lightly, as he threw it over his shoulders.
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