“Ah, well met, M. le Comte,” he sneered, with as much hostility as he dared betray.  “The King has asked for you twice.”

“I am going to him.  And you?  Whither in such a hurry, M. Nancay?”

“To Chatillon.”

“On pleasant business?”

“Enough that it is on the King’s!” Nancay replied, with unexpected temper.  “I hope that you may find yours as pleasant!” he added with a grin.  And he went on.

The gleam of malice in the man’s eye warned Tavannes to pause.  He looked round for some one who might be in the secret, saw the Provost of the Merchants, and approached him.

“What’s amiss, M. le Charron?” he asked.  “Is not the affair going as it should?”

“’Tis about the Arsenal, M. le Comte,” the Provost answered busily.  “M. de Biron is harbouring the vermin there.  He has lowered the portcullis and pointed his culverins over the gate and will not yield it or listen to reason.  The King would bring him to terms, but no one will venture himself inside with the message.  Rats in a trap, you know, bite hard, and care little whom they bite.”

“I begin to understand.”

“Precisely, M. le Comte.  His Majesty would have sent M. de Nancay.  But he elected to go to Chatillon, to seize the young brood there.  The Admiral’s children, you comprehend.”

“Whose teeth are not yet grown!  He was wise.”

“To be sure, M. de Tavannes, to be sure.  But the King was annoyed, and on top of that came a priest with complaints, and if I may make so bold as to advise you, you will not—­”

But Tavannes fancied that he had caught the gist of the difficulty, and with a nod he moved on; and so he missed the warning which the other had it in his mind to give.  A moment and he reached the inner circle, and there halted, disconcerted, nay taken aback.  For as soon as he showed his face, the King, who was pacing to and fro like a caged beast, before a table at which three clerks knelt on cushions, espied him, and stood still.  With a glare of something like madness in his eyes, Charles raised his hand, and with a shaking finger singled him out.

“So, by G-d, you are there!” he cried, with a volley of blasphemy.  And he signed to those about Count Hannibal to stand away from him.  “You are there, are you?  And you are not afraid to show your face?  I tell you, it’s you and such as you bring us into contempt! so that it is said everywhere Guise does all and serves God, and we follow because we must!  It’s you, and such as you, are stumbling-blocks to our good folk of Paris!  Are you traitor, sirrah?” he continued with passion, “or are you of our brother Alencon’s opinions, that you traverse our orders to the damnation of your soul and our discredit?  Are you traitor?  Or are you heretic?  Or what are you?  God in heaven, will you answer me, man, or shall I send you where you will find your tongue?”

“I know not of what your Majesty accuses me,” Count Hannibal answered, with a scarcely perceptible shrug of the shoulders.