THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
be in the Tower by midnight. The prison would know no distinctions. He hated this man as one hates another to whom he is under obligations and who has done him a great injury. And if he was the real heir, come to dispossess Mistress Barbara and balk him in a marriage that meant a fortune beyond the wildest dreams, the worse for him. He should suffer for it!
All of these things passed again somewhat heavily through his mind. The air of unconcern and assurance which he met in the faces of both Mornay and the Irishman disarmed him. He thought how easy it had been to gain his ends, and comfortably fingered the whistle in his pocket with which he should presently call in his hounds upon his enemy. Nor would his pistols be required. If he had wished he could have sent his constables up from below to take these men in the trap they had made for themselves. But he enjoyed the situation. It was as easy as a game of quinze with the mirror behind your opponent’s back.
“Monsieur Ferraire,” began Mornay, pleasantly, “I am meeting you to-night at great risk
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