Philip took clothes with him, in his saddlebags, of gayer colours than those worn by the Huguenots; and as soon as they were beyond the district where the Protestants were in the ascendant, he put these on instead of those in which he had started. They rode fast and, on the fifth day after leaving La Rochelle, they entered Versailles. No questions had been asked them by the way, and they rode into the courtyard of the principal inn, and there stabled their horses.  
"Your animals look as if they needed rest, sir," the landlord said, as they dismounted.
 
"Yes, we have come from the south, and have pressed them too much. I have business in Paris which will occupy me for a few days; therefore I will leave them here, for a rest. I suppose you can furnish me with two horses, to take me as far as Saint Cloud, and a man to bring them back again."
 
"Certainly I can, sir, and your horses shall be well looked after, here."
 
"Then we will go on, the first thing in the morning. Have the horses ready by that time."
 
The next morning they rode to Saint Cloud, dismounted there, and handed over the horses to the man who had ridden behind them. Then they crossed by the bridge over the river and, entering the wood that bordered the Seine, put on the disguises they had brought with them--concealing their clothes among some thick bushes--and then walked on into Paris.
 
They put up at a small inn and, as they partook of a meal, listened to the talk of those around them. But it was not here that they could expect to gather the news they required. They heard the names of many of those who had been killed, but these were all leaders of distinction; and as soon as they had finished their food, they started for the Louvre.
 
"I don't see how we are to find out what we want, now we are here, Pierre," Philip said, after they had stood for some time, looking at the gate through which numbers of gentlemen entered or left the palace.
 
"It will take some little time, sir," Pierre said. "I think the best plan will be for me to purchase some clothes, suitable for the lackey of a gentleman of rank. I can get them easily enough, for the shops will be full of garments, bought of those who took part in the massacre. Then I shall make acquaintance with one of the lackeys of the court and, with plenty of good wine, I shall no doubt be able to learn all that he knows as to what took place at the Louvre."
 
At that moment a gentleman passed them.
 
"That is Count Louis de Fontaine, the cousin of the man I killed in that duel. I am sure it is he. By what I saw of him, he is a gentleman and a man of honour, and by no means ill disposed towards us.
 
"I will speak to him. Do you stay here, till I return."
 
Pierre was about to protest, but Philip had already left him, and was following the count. He waited until they were in a comparatively quiet place, and then walked on and overtook him.
 
"Count Louis de Fontaine," he said.
 
The nobleman turned, in surprise, at being addressed by this big countryman.
 
Philip went on:
 
"Our acquaintance was a short one, count. It was some four years ago, at Agen, that I met you, and had the misfortune to have trouble with your cousin, Count Raoul; but short as it was, it was sufficient to show me that you were a gentleman of heart, and to encourage me, now, to throw myself on your generosity."
 
"Are you the gentleman who fought my cousin, and afterwards escaped from the castle?" the count asked, in surprise.
 
"I am, count. I am here upon no plot or conspiracy, but simply to endeavour to ascertain the fate of my cousin, Francois de Laville, who was with the King of Navarre on that fearful night, a fortnight since. His mother is distracted at hearing no news of him, while to me he is as a brother.
 
"I effected my own escape, and have, as you see, returned in disguise to ascertain his fate. I am unable to obtain a list of those who were murdered and, seeing you, I felt that it would be safe to rely upon your honour, and to ask you to give me the news I require. I will fall back now, for it might be thought strange that a noble should be talking to a peasant; but I pray you to lead the way to some quiet spot, where I can speak with you unnoticed."
 
"My lodging is in the next street. Follow me, and I will take you up to my room."
 
As soon as they had entered the lodging, the count said:
 
"You are not deceived. I am incapable of betraying a trust imposed upon me. I bear you no malice for the slaying of my cousin; for indeed, the quarrel was not of your seeking. Still less do I feel hostility towards you on the ground of your religion; for I doubt not, from what you say, that you are of the Reformed faith. I lament, most deeply and bitterly, the events that have taken place--events which dishonour our nation in the eyes of all Europe. I have not the pleasure of knowing your name."
 
"I am the Chevalier Philip Fletcher, an Englishman by birth, though related on my mother's side to the family of the Count de Laville."
 
"I have heard your name, sir, as that of one of the bravest gentlemen in the following of Admiral Coligny.
 
"Now, as to your cousin; his fate is uncertain. He was certainly cut down by the hired wretches of the Guises. They passed on in search of other victims, believing him to be dead; but his body was not afterwards found, and the general opinion is that he either recovered and crawled away, and is still in some hiding place, or that he is concealed somewhere in the palace itself. Search was made next day, but without success. Some think he may have reached the streets, and been there killed; and his body, like so many others, thrown into the Seine. I trust that this is not the case, but I have no grounds for bidding you hope."
 
"At any rate, you have given me cause to hope, sir, and I thank you heartily. It is something to know that he is not certainly dead.
 
"Can you tell me on which side of the palace was his chamber? I saw him there frequently, but did not, on any occasion, go with him to his room."
 
"It was on the side facing the river. It was near that of the King of Navarre."
 
"Thank you, count. It is but a small clue with which to commence my search, but it is at least something. You say that the palace itself has been searched?"
 
"Yes. On the following morning it was thoroughly searched for fugitives in hiding; but for all that he may be concealed there, by some servant whose goodwill he had gained.
 
"Is there anything else that I can tell you? I may say that I have, personally, no influence whatever at court. I have never failed to express myself strongly, in reference to the policy of persecution; and I am only here, now, in obedience to the royal orders to present myself at court."
 
"There is nothing else, count. I thank you most sincerely, for having thus respected my disguise, and for the news you have given me."
 
Philip returned to the Louvre and joined Pierre, who was impatiently waiting.
 
"I followed you for some distance, sir; but when I saw you address the count, and then follow quietly behind him, I saw you were right, and that he was to be trusted; and so returned to await your coming. Have you obtained any sure news from him?"
 
Philip repeated his conversation with the count.
 
"I will wager he is hidden somewhere in the palace," Pierre said. "Badly wounded as he must have been, he could not have hoped to make his escape through the streets, knowing no one who would have dared to give him refuge. It is far more likely that some of the palace servants came upon him, just as he was recovering, and hid him away. He was always bright and pleasant, fond of a jest, and it may well be that some woman or other took pity on him. The question is, how are we to find out who she is?"
 
"It is as likely to be a man as a woman, Pierre."
 
"No," Pierre said positively. "Women are wonderfully tender hearted, and are not so afraid of consequences as men are. A man might feel some pity, at seeing a gentleman so sorely wounded, but he would not risk his own life to shelter him; while any woman would do it, without hesitation. It may be a lady of noble family, or a poor kitchen wench, but that it is a woman I would wager my life."
 
"It seems hopeless to try to find out who it is," Philip said despondently.
 
"Not hopeless, sir, though doubtless difficult. With your permission, I will undertake this part of the task. I will get myself up as a workman out of employment--and there are many such--and will hang about near that little gate. It is the servants' entrance, and I shall be able to watch every woman that comes out."
 
"But what good will watching do?"
 
"It may do no good, sir, but yet it may help. A woman, with such a secret as that on her mind, will surely show some signs of it upon her face. She will either have a scared look, or an anxious look. She will not walk with an easy step."
 
"Well, there is something in what you say, Pierre. At any rate, I can think of nothing better."
 
The next morning Pierre took up his position opposite the gate, but had no news that night to report to his master; nor had he on the second or third; but on the fourth, he returned radiant.
 
"Good news, master. The count is alive, and I have found him."
 
Philip sprung from his settle, and grasped his faithful follower by the hand.
 
"Thank God for the news, Pierre. I had almost given up hope. How did you discover him?"
 
"Just as I expected, sir. I have seen, in the last three days, scores of women come out; but none of them needed a second look. Some were intent on their own finery, others were clearly bent on shopping. Some looked up and down the street, for a lover who ought to have been waiting for them. Not one of these had a secret of life and death on her mind.
 
"But this afternoon there came out a young woman with a pale face, and an anxious look. She glanced nervously up and down the street, not as one expecting to meet a friend, but as if she feared an enemy. After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the road and walked along with an indecisive air; more than once glancing behind her, as if afraid of being followed.
 
"'This is my lady,' I said to myself and, keeping some distance behind and on the opposite side of the road, I followed her.
 
"She soon turned off into a side street. Once or twice she paused, looked into a shop, hesitated, and then went on again. You may be sure I marked the spots, and was not surprised to find that, in each case, it was an apothecary's before which she had hesitated.
 
"At last, after looking round again timidly, she entered one; and when I came up, I also went in. She gave a nervous start. I asked to be supplied with a pot of salve for a wound, and the man helped me from one he had just placed on the counter before him. I paid for it, and left.
 
"Two or three minutes later, I saw her come out. Whatever she had bought, she had hidden it under her cloak. Up to this time she had walked fast, but she now loitered, and looked at the wares displayed on the stalls.
 
"'You are in no hurry to go back,' I said to myself. 'You have got what you wanted, and you do not wish to attract attention, by returning to the palace after so short an absence.'
 
"At last, when she was in a quiet spot, I walked quickly up to her.
 
"'Mademoiselle,' I said, taking off my hat, 'I am a friend of the gentleman for whom you have bought that salve, and other matters.'
 
"She became very white, but she said stoutly:
 
"'I don't know what you are talking about, sir; and if you molest a modest young woman in the streets, I shall appeal to the town constables for protection.'
 
"'I repeat,' I said, 'that I am a friend of the gentleman for whom you have just bought the materials for dressing his wounds. I am the servant of his cousin, the Chevalier Fletcher; and the name of your patient is Count Francois de Laville.'
 
"She looked at me, stupefied with astonishment, and stammered:
 
"'How do you know that?'
 
"'It is enough, mademoiselle, that I know it,' I said. 'My master and I have come to Paris, expressly to find Monsieur de Laville; and when we have found him, to aid him to make his escape. Do not hesitate to confide in me, for only so shall we succeed in the object of our journey.'
 
"'What is your master's Christian name?' she asked, still doubtful.
 
"'It is Philip,' I said.
 
"She clasped her hands together.
 
"'The good God be praised!' she exclaimed. 'It was of Philip he spoke, when he was so ill. He was unconscious. Surely it is He that has sent you to me. It has been terrible for me to bear my secret, alone.'
 
"'Let us walk farther,' I said, 'before you tell me more. There are too many people passing here; and if they notice the tears on your cheeks, they may suspect me of ill treating you, and may ask troublesome questions.'
 
"After a few minutes' walk, we came to a quiet square.
 
"'Let us sit down on this stone seat,' I said. 'We can talk freely here. Now, tell me all about it.'
 
"'I am one of the bedmakers of the palace, and it fell to me to sweep the room occupied by the Count de Laville. Once or twice he came in, while I was there, and spoke pleasantly; and I thought what a handsome fellow he was, and said to myself what a pity it was that he was a heretic. When that terrible night came, we were all aroused from our sleep, and many of us ran down in a fright to see what was the matter. We heard shouts, and cries, and the clashing of swords.
 
"'As I passed Monsieur de Laville's room, the door was open. I looked in. Three soldiers lay dead on the floor, and near them the count, whom I thought was also dead. I ran to him, and lifted his head, and sprinkled water on his face from a flagon on the table. He opened his eyes, and made an effort to get to his feet. I was frightened out of my life at it all, and I said to him:
 
"'"What does it all mean, monsieur?"
 
"'"It is a massacre," he said, faintly. "Do you not hear the firing in the streets, and the din in the palace? They will return and finish me. I thank you for what you have done, but it is useless."
 
"'Then I thought for a moment.
 
"'"Can you walk, monsieur?"
 
"'"Barely," he replied.
 
"'"Lean on my shoulder, monsieur," I said. "I will help you up the stairs. I know of a place where you may lie concealed."
 
"'With great difficulty I helped him up a staircase that was but little used, and got him to the top. Several times he said: "It is of no use; I am wounded to death!" but he still held on.
 
"'I slept in a little garret in the roof, with two other servants, and at the end of the passage was a large lumber store. It was into this that I took him. Nobody ever went there, and it was safe, except in case of special search. I laid him down, and then moved some of the heavy cabinets and chests, at the farther end, a short distance from the wall, so that there would be space enough for him to lie behind them. Here I made a bed, with some old cushions from the couches; got him into the place, first bandaging his wounds, as well as I could in the faint light that came in through a dormer window. I fetched a jug of water from my room, and placed it beside him; and then moved the furniture, so as to close up the spot at which he had entered. Against it I piled up tables and chairs; so that, to anyone who did not examine it very closely, it would seem that the heavy furniture was against the wall.
 
"'There he has been, ever since. Two or three times a day I have managed to steal away from my work, to carry him water and food that I brought from the kitchen, when we went down to our meals. For a time, I thought he would die; for four days he did not know me. He talked much to himself and, several times, he mentioned the name of Philip, and called upon him to aid him against the murderers. Fortunately he was so weak that he could not speak much above a whisper, and there was no fear of his voice being heard.
 
"'The day after I hid him, the whole palace was searched to see if any Huguenots were concealed. But up in the attics they searched but carelessly, seeing that we slept three or four in each room, and no one could well be hidden there without all knowing it. They did enter the lumber room. But I had carefully washed the floor where he had lain and, as I could not get out the stains of blood, I pushed some heavy chests over them.
 
"'I was in my room when they searched the lumber room, and my heart stood still until I heard them come out, and knew that they had found nothing.
 
"'For the last ten days, the count has gained strength. His wounds are still very sore and painful, but they are beginning to heal. I have bought wine for him, and can always manage to conceal enough food, from the table, to suffice for his wants. He can walk now, though feebly; and spoke to me but today about making his escape.
 
"'It would be easy enough to get him out of the palace, if I had a lackey's attire for him. I could lead him down private staircases till near the door from which we come out of the palace. But I had little money, for I had sent off most of my wages to my mother, only a day or two before the royal wedding. Still, we might have managed that; I could have borrowed some, on some pretence or other.
 
"'He is, however, too weak to travel, and the effort to do so might cause his wounds to burst out afresh; but now that his cousin has come, all will be well.'
 
"'Where is he wounded?' I asked.
 
"'He has four wounds. One is on the head; another on the neck; one is a stab in the body, that must have narrowly missed his heart; and the other is a sword thrust, through his arm.
 
"'But how, monsieur, did you know,' she asked, 'that it is I who have hidden the count?'
 
"I told her that I had been watching for four days, feeling sure that the count was hidden in the palace; but hers was the first face that showed anxiety, and that, when I saw her buying salve at the apothecary's, I felt sure that it was she who was sheltering the count."
 
"And have you arranged anything, Pierre?" Philip asked anxiously.
 
"Only this much, sir, that tomorrow evening, as soon as it is dark, she will leave the palace with Monsieur Francois. That will give us plenty of time to make our plans, which will be easy enough. We have but to take an apartment, and bring him up into it. No one need know that there are more than ourselves there, and we can nurse him for a few days, until he is fit to ride.
 
"Then we have only to get him a disguise like that in which we entered. We can hide him in the wood, go on to where we hid our clothes, put them on instead of our disguises, enter Saint Cloud, go on to Versailles, fetch the three horses, and return to him--with, of course, a suit o............