"Was there not a Count once who dangled over the gate? I have heard it was so in Duke Conrad's time," said the dwarf.
"Take him away," Felix thundered.
"A moment," said Jean, exerting his full strength and throwing off the hands which held him. "A warning, Count. Mark the word: the people love not the breaking of laws, and it is unlawful that any man should hang over the castle gate but by order of the Duke of Montvilliers. To-day there is no Duke, only Count Felix."
The Count's teeth savagely bit into his under-lip. Jean was right, and Felix had no wish to incense the people.
"Be wise, wait," said Jean. "This man may be a traitor, but he can wait a day or two. He may confess if you give him time, and let him know that he may perhaps win life by confession. He had accomplices without doubt; he may name them if he has a little time for thought. In a few days when you are Duke, you may hang a whole company of soldiers, if you will, and if I help to choose them, may lose nothing by the sport."
"You are indeed a fool," said Felix, hiding his anger under a boisterous laugh, as men driven to bay often will.
"With wisdom enough to save you from folly," whispered the dwarf as he shuffled to the Count's chair and sat on the floor again.
"The fool has saved you, Lemasle," said Felix. "You hear what he says? I may be lenient if you decide to speak openly."
"I thank the fool," Lemasle answered.