" There
was now no wrath in the Chevalier's voice; but there was a quality of
resignation in it which struck the acute ear of the cardinal and caused
him to raise his penciled brows.
"Monsieur, you are hiding something," he said quickly, even shrewdly.
"I?"
"You, Monsieur. I believe that you slept in Fontainebleau. But who
wore your grey cloak?"
"I can not say truthfully because I do not know."
"Take care!"
"I do not know who wore my cloak."
"A while back you said something about truth. You are not telling it
now. I will know who killed De Brissac, an honored and respected
gentleman, whatever his political opinions may have been in the past.
It was an encounter under questionable circumstances. The edict reads
that whosoever shall be found guilty of killing in a personal quarrel
shall be subject to imprisonment or death. The name of the man who
wore your cloak, or I shall hold you culpable and punish you in his
stead."
The Chevalier stooped and recovered his hat, but he did not touch the
sword.
"It is impossible for me to tell you, Monseigneur. I do not know. The
cloak may have been stolen and worn by some one I never saw.
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