As he passed through the town of Blois, Rupert suddenly came upon a group of horsemen.  Saluting as he passed—­for in those days in France no one of inferior rank passed one of the upper classes without uncovering—­he went steadily on.

“That is a proper looking fellow,” one of the party said, looking after him.

“By our Lady,” exclaimed another, “I believe I have seen that head and shoulders before.  Yes, I feel sure.

“Gentlemen, we have made a prize.  Unless I am greatly mistaken, this is the villainous Englishman who it is believed aided that malapert young lady to escape.”

In another moment Rupert was surrounded.  His hat was knocked off; and the Duc de Carolan, for it was he, exclaimed in delight: 

“I thought that I could not be mistaken.  It is himself.”

Rupert attempted no resistance, for alone and on foot it would have been hopeless.

The governor of the royal castle of Blois was one of the party, and Rupert found himself in another ten minutes standing, with guards on each side of him, before a table in the governor’s room, with the governor and the Duc de Carolan sitting as judges before him.

“I have nothing to say,” Rupert said, quietly.  “I escaped from Lille because I had been, as I deemed it, unworthily treated in Paris.  I had withdrawn my parole, and was therefore free to escape if I could.  I did escape, but finding the frontier swarmed with French troops, I thought it safer to make for central France, where a wayfarer would not be looked upon as suspiciously as in the north.  Here I am.  I decline to answer any further questions.

“As to the lady of whom you question me, I rejoice to find, by the drift of your questions, that she has withdrawn herself from the persecution which she suffered, and has escaped being forced into marriage with a man she once described in my hearing as an ape in the costume of the day.”

“And that is all you will say, prisoner?” the governor asked, while the Duc de Carolan gave an exclamation of fury.

“That is all, sir; and I would urge, that as an English officer I am entitled to fair and honourable treatment; for although I might have been shot in the act of trying to escape from prison, it is the rule that an escaping prisoner caught afterwards, as I am, should have fair treatment, although his imprisonment should be stricter and more secure than before.

“As to the other matter, there cannot be, I am assured, even a tittle of evidence to connect me with the event you mention.  As far as I hear from you, I escaped on the 10th from Lille, which date is indeed accurate.  Three days later Mademoiselle de Pignerolles left Versailles.  The connection between the two events does not appear in any way clear to me.”

“It may or it may not be,” the governor said.  “However, my duty is clear, to keep you here in safe ward until I receive his Majesty’s orders.”