salutation. Carefully he looked the fellow up and down, from heavy boots back again to the now-replaced cocked hat.

"General," began the intruder, "I come to pay you my respects."

"I am no general, and if you wish to see me, get permission from my sergeant major. Pollard! Who let this by?"

"A moment," said the hairy one. "I have a proposition to offer you, one which will mean food and employment."

"You are very sure of yourself, fellow. Are we mercenaries that we can be bought?"

"Food is a matter of need, general. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Duke LeCroisaut."

"Duke? May I ask of what?"

"Of a town, general. I received the grant from the king not three years ago."

"King?"

"The King of France, His Majesty Renard the First. My credentials." And he took forth a scroll from his cloak and unwound it.

Without touching it, the lieutenant read the flowing phrases in the flourishing hand.

"Renard the First has been executed these last six months. And I, fellow, have nothing to do with the politics of France. We waste time, I think."

"General, do not judge me so abruptly. My town, St Hubert, has come into the hands of a brigand named Despard, a former private in the French army, who has seen fit to settle himself upon my people, oppressing them."

"This is nothing to me. Guard, escort this man beyond the sentries."

"But the food—" said the Duke with a leer.

The lieutenant shook his head at the guard, staying them for a moment. "What about this food?"

"The peasants have some. If you do as I ask, it shall be yours."

"Where is this town?"

"About a week's march south and west for you and your men; two days' march for myself."

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