"Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. He had nothing to guide him; for though the torches were blazing ruddily below, their gleam fell only on the side of the building. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. "Some one must have assisted him.
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