As I slipped through the wicket I cast a hurried glance around me, and then, acting on the impulse of the moment, ran forwards along the road for about fifty paces, with Babette's dagger clenched in my hand. There I was brought to a stand by a dead wall, studded with iron spikes at the top, which rose sheer above me for fully twenty feet and barred all further progress. It was evident that the Toison d'Or stood in a blind alley, and that I had taken the wrong turning. Not even an ape could have scaled the moss-grown and slippery surface of those stones, and, leaning against a buttress in the darkest corner of the wall, I stood for a moment or so and waited, determined to sell my life as dearly as possible should I be pursued. There was no sound, however; all was still as the grave. I ran my eye down the road, but the moon was not bright enough to penetrate the shadows, and I could make out nothing except the many-storied and gabled buildings that, packed closely to each other, beetled over the passage. The hanging turrets projecting from these houses were for all the world like gigantic wasps' nests, such as are seen clinging to the rocks of the upper Dordogne. Here and there a turret window showed a light glimmering behind it, and, had I time, I might have pictured to myself a resemblance between this 'beetle-browed' passage to that of some long, narrow, and sluggish mountain tarn, guarded on each side by an impassable barrier of frowning rocks. It was, however, not a moment to let oneself be impressed by scenery, and, eyes and ears on the stretch, I peered into the indistinct light to see the slightest movement, to catch the slightest sound. But the silence remained undisturbed. It was an eyrie of night-hawks, and they were hunting now far from their nests. So I stole forth from the shadow of the buttress, and, keeping the dagger ready to strike, retraced my steps past the Toison d'Or and along the winding and crooked passage, keeping as far away from the walls as possible to avoid any sudden attack, until at last I found myself in a cross street, down which I went, taking note of such landmarks as I could to guide me back, when I should return with vengeance in my right hand. The cross street led into other winding and twisting lanes, whose squalid inhabitants were either flitting up and down, or quarrelling amongst themselves, or else sitting in a sullen silence. I guessed I had got myself into one of the very worst parts of Paris, and as I had heard that it was more than dangerous to be recognised in such places as one not belonging to the noble order of cut-purses, I did not halt to make inquiries, but pursued my way steadily along the labyrinth of streets, feeling more lost at every step I took. Once or twice I passed a street stall, and, as the flare of the torches which lit up its gruesome contents fell on me, I was looked at curiously; but so soiled and wet was I, so torn my cloak and doublet in the struggle with de Gomeron's bravos, that at the most they took me for a night-hawk of superior feather, whose plumes had been ruffled by a meeting with the law. That I inspired this idea was evident, indeed, from the way in which one terrible-looking old man leaned forwards and, shaking his palsied finger at me, croaked out:
'Run, captain; run, Messire de Montfaucon!'
I hurried past as fast as I could, followed by the laughter of those who heard the remark, thinking to myself it was lucky it was no worse than a jibe that was flung at me.
How long I wandered in that maze of streets I cannot say, but at last I came upon an open space, and, finding it more or less empty, stopped to take my bearings. My only chance to get back to my lodging that night—and it was all-important to do so—was to strike the Seine at some point or other; but in what direction the river lay, I could not, for the life of me, tell. At last I determined to steer by the moon, and, holding her track to the south-west of me, went on, keeping as a landmark on my left the tall spire of a church whose name I then did not know. So I must have plodded on for about an hour, until at last I was sensible that the street in which I was in was wider than the others I had passed through, and, finally, I saw before me a couple of lanterns, evidently slung on a rope that stretched across a street much broader still than the one I was in. That, and the sight of the lanterns, convinced me that I had gained one of the main arteries of the city, and it was with an inward 'Thank God!' that I stepped under the light and looked about me, uncertain which direction I should take, for if I kept the moon behind me, as I had done hitherto, I should have to cross over and leave the street, and I felt sure this would be a serious error that would only lead me into further difficulties. It was as yet not more than a half-hour or so beyond compline, so the street was full. And unwilling to attract the attention of the watch, which had a habit of confining its beat to places where it was least required, I began to stroll slowly down, determined to inquire the way of the first passer-by who looked in a mood amiable enough to exchange a word with so bedraggled a wretch as I was then.
I had not long to wait, for in a short time I noticed one who was evidently a well-to-do citizen hurrying along, with a persuading staff in his right hand, and the muffled figure of a lady clinging on to his left arm. I could make out nothing of her; but the man himself was short and stout of figure, and I ran to the conclusion that he must be a cheery soul, for, as far as I could see by the light of the street lamps, he looked like one who enjoyed a good meal and a can to follow, and approaching, I addressed him—
'Pardon, monsieur, but I have lost my way.'
I had hardly spoken so much, when, loosening his arm from the lady, the little man jumped back a yard, and began flourishing his stick.
I saw that in the next moment he would shout for the watch, and stopped him with a quick—
'Monsieur, I have been attacked and robbed—there,' and I pointed in the direction whence I had come. 'I have escaped but with my life, and I pray you tell me how to find my way to the Rue de Bourdonnais.' The lady, who had at first retreated with a little cry of alarm behind her companion, here stepped forward with a soft—
'Poor man! are you much hurt?'
'Not in the least, mademoiselle, thank you,' and I unconsciously moved a step forward.
'Stand back!' called out the little man, dabbing his stick at me, 'and say Madame, sir—the lady is my wife.'
'Pardon my error, sir, but——'
The lady, however, interposed—
'Be still. Mangel. So you wish to find the Rue de Bourdonnais, sir?'
'He had better find the watch,' interrupted Maître Mangel; 'they have gone that way, towards the Porte St. Martin.'
'This, then, is the——'
'Rue St. Martin.'
'A hundred thanks, mademoiselle.'
'Madame—MadameMangel, monsieur.'
'Pardon, I now know where I am, and have only to follow my nose to get to where I want. I thank you once more, and good night.'
'Good night, monsieur,' answered Madame; but Maître Mangel, who was evidently of a jealous complexion, tucked his wife under his arm and hurried her off, muttering something under his breath.
I let my eye follow them for a moment or so, and ere they had gone many paces, Madame Mangel, who appeared to be of a frolicsome spirit, turned her head and glanced over her shoulder, but was immediately pulled back with a jerk by her husband, whose hand moved in much the same manner as that of a nervous rider when clawing at the reins of a restive horse. Then I, too, turned and went down in an opposite direction along the Rue St. Martin, smiling to myself at the little scene I had witnessed, and my spirits rising at every step I took, for I felt each moment was bringing me nearer the time when I should be able to effect Claude's freedom, and balance my account with Adam de Gomeron. At last I saw the spire of St. Jacques de la Boucherie to my right, and a few steps more brought me to the bridge of Notre Dame. The passage was, however, closed, and, turning to the west, I kept along the river face and made for the Pont du Change, hoping that this bridge would be open, else I should perforce be compelled to swim the Seine once more, as no boats were allowed to ply during the night. Here, however, I was not disappointed, and threading my way through the crowd that still lingered round the money-changers' stalls, I soon found myself in the Barillierie, and hastening past Sainte Chapelle to the Rue des Deux Mondes. I had determined in the first instance to seek out de Belin, but thought better of that as I went along the Rue St. Martin, when I considered how unlikely I was to find my friend at home, whereas, on the other hand, the notary and his wife were sure to be in their house; and it moreover struck me as being the safest plan to go straight there until I could communicate with de Belin. For if I should be suspected of making away with Madame, no one would think me fool enough to come back to my lodging, which was well known, no doubt, and where I could be trapped at once.
At last I was once again in the Rue des Deux Mondes, very footsore and weary, but kept up by the thought of what I had before me, and ready to drop dead before I should yield to fatigue. There was no one in the street, and, seizing the huge knocker, I hammered at the door in a manner loud enough to waken the dead. It had the effect of arousing one or two of the inhabitants of the adjoining houses, who opened their windows and peered out into the night, and then shut them again hastily, for the wind blew chill across the Passeur aux Vaches. There was no answer to my knock, and then I again beat furiously at the door, with a little sinking of my heart as it came to me that perhaps some harm had befallen these good people. This time, however, I heard a noise within, and presently Pantin's voice, inquiring in angry accents who it was that disturbed the rest of honest people at so late an hour.
'Open, Pantin,' I shouted; 'it is I—do you not know me?'
Then I heard another voice, and a sudden joy went through me, for it was that of my trusty Jacques.
'Grand Dieu!It is the Chevalier! Open the door quick, man!'
It was done in a trice, and as I stepped in Pantin closed it again rapidly, whilst Jacques seized my hand in his, and then, letting it go, gambolled about like a great dog that had just found its master.
I noticed, however, at the first glance I took round, that both Pantin and Jacques were fully dressed, late as it was, and that the notary was very pale, and the hand in which he held a lantern was visibly trembling.
'Monsieur,' he began, and then stopped; but I understood the question in his voice, and answered at once—
'Pantin, I have come back to free her—come back almost from the dead.'
'Then, monsieur, there are those here who can help you still. I had thought you brought the worst news,' and he looked at me where I stood, soiled and wet. 'This way, monsieur le chevalier,' he continued.
'In a moment, Pantin,' cut in dame Annette's voice, and the good woman came up to me with a flagon of warmed wine in her hand.
'Take this first, chevalier, 'tis Maître Pantin's nightcap; but I do not think he will need it this night. God be thanked you have come back safe.'
I wrung her hand, and drained the wine at a draught, and then, with Pantin ahead holding his lantern aloft, we ascended the stair that led to my apartments. As we went up I asked Jacques—
'Did you manage the business?'
'Yes, monsieur, and Marie and her father are both safe at Auriac. I rode back almost without drawing rein, and reached here but this afternoon; and then, monsieur, I heard what had happened, and gave you up for lost.'
At this juncture we reached the small landing near the sitting-room I had occupied, and Pantin without further ceremony flung open the door, and announced me by name. I stepped in with some surprise, the others crowding after me, and at the first glance recognised, to my astonishment, de Belin, who had half risen from his seat, his hand on his sword-hilt, as the door was flung open; and in the other figure, seated in an armchair, and staring moodily into the fire, saw Palin, who, however, made no movement beyond turning his head and looking coldly at me. Not so Belin, for he sprang forwards to meet me in his impulsive way, calling out—
'Arnidieu!You are back! Palin, take heart, man! He would never have come back alone.'
The last words hit me like a blow, and my confusion was increased by the demeanour of Palin, who gave no sign of recognition; and there I stood in the midst of them, fumbling with the hilt of my sword, and facing the still, motionless figure before me, the light of the candles falling on the stern, drawn features of the Huguenot.
My forehead grew hot with shame and anger, as I looked from one to another, and then, like a criminal before a judge, I faced the old man and told him exactly what had happened—all except one thing; that I kept back. At the mention of Ravaillac's name, and of his identity with the Capuchin, the Vicompte de Belin swore bitterly under his moustache; and but for that exclamation my story was heard in stillness to its bitter end. For a moment one might have heard a pin fall, and then Palin said, 'And you left her—there!' The dry contempt of his manner stung me; but I could say nothing, save mutter—
'I did what I could.'
'The one ewe-lamb of the fold—the last and the best beloved,' he said, as if speaking to himself; and then in a sudden fury he sprang to his feet. 'But why do we stand prating here? There are five of us, and we know where she is—come.'
But Belin put his hand on his shoulder. 'Patience, Maître Palin—patience.'
'I have had enough of patience and enough of trusting others,' and the Huguenot shook off his hand and looked at me with a scowl. 'Come, Monsieur d'Auriac; if you would make amends, lead me to this Toison d'Or and we will see what an old arm can do.'
'I am ready,' I answered.
But Belin again interfered.
'Messieurs, this is madness. From what I have gathered d'Auriac will prove but a blind guide back. We are not, moreover, sure that Madame is there. Sit still here, you Palin; neither you nor d'Auriac are fit to think. Fore Gad! it was lucky I thought of this for our meeting-place tonight, Palin. Sit still and let me think.'
'I can think well enough,' I cut in, 'and I have my plan; but I should like to ask a question or two before I speak.'
'And these questions are?'
'I presume I am suspected of this abduction?'
'And of more.Nom de dieu!Man! your mare was found dead, and beside her one of the Marshal's guards, run through the heart,' answered de Belin.
'Then of course if I am seen I am in danger?'
'A miracle only could save you. The King is enraged beyond measure, and swears he will let the Edict go in its full force against you. The Camarguer has made a fine story of it, saying how he tried to stop the abduction, but failed in the attempt.'
'In short, then, it would ruin all chances if we adopt Maître Palin's suggestion?'
'You are saving me the trouble of thinking.'
'Again,' I went on, 'it is not certain if Madame is still at the Toison d'Or, and apart from that I doubt if I could find my way back there to-night, unless anyone could guide me,' and I looked at the Pantins, who shook their heads sorrowfully.
'This settles our going out to-night,' I went on; 'there is but one thing to do to-morrow—to find the house. It will be easy to discover if Madame is within. After that I propose a rescue by the ordinary means of the law.'
'Would it not be as simple to have recourse to Villeroi the first thing to-morrow?' asked Belin.
'Simple enough; but the law has its delays, and if once the house is raided and Madame is not there we may whistle for our prize.'
'But the wheel?' put in Pantin.
'Will break Babette, who will not know. M. de Gomeron is no fool to trust her more than the length of his hand. No—I will leave nothing to chance. I propose then to seek out the house tomorrow, with Pantin's help, if he will give it.'
'Most willingly,' put in the notary.
'Thanks, my good friend. That we will find it I am certain, and then we can act. In the meantime I must ask you by all means in your power to get the search of the law after me delayed.'
'Then M. de Villeroi must hear some certain news to-morrow,' said Annette.
'There speaks a woman's wit,' exclaimed Belin; 'well, after all, perhaps your plan is the best.'
'And in this search of to-morrow I will share,' Palin suddenly exclaimed. But my heart was sore against him for what he had said.
'Pardon me, Maître Palin; this is my right—I do this alone.'
'Your right,' he sneered.
'Yes, Maître Palin, my right; I go to rescue my promised wife.'
'And besides, Monsieur le Chevalier will want no help, for I am here,' Jacques must needs thrust in; 'and when Monsieur is married,' he blundered on, 'we will rebuild Auriac, mount a brace of bombards on the keep, and erect a new gallows for ill-doers.'
'Silence, sir!' I thundered, half beside myself at the idiot's folly, for I saw the gleam in the eyes of Pantin and his wife, and despite the gravity of the occasion de Belin had hard to do to repress an open laugh.
As for Palin, he said nothing for a moment, his features twitching nervously. At last he turned to me, 'It is what I have hoped and prayed for,' he said, holding out his hand; 'forgive me—I take back the words so hastily spoken—it is an old man who seeks your pardon.'
I took his hand in all frankness, and he embraced me as a son, and then in a while Belin said—
'We must be up and doing early to-morrow, and d'Auriac is in need of rest. He will share my bed here to-night; and harkee, Pantin! rouse us with the dawn.'
We then parted, the Pantins showing the Huguenot to his chamber, and Jacques but waiting for a moment or so to help me off with my dripping things. My valises were still lying in the room, and I was thus enabled to get the change of apparel I so much needed.
When at last we were abed I found it impossible to sleep, and Belin was at first equally wakeful. For this I was thankful, as I began to grow despondent, and felt that after all I had lost the game utterly. But the Vicompte's courage never faltered, and in spite of myself I began to be cheered by his hopefulness. He explained to me fully how it came that he was at the Rue des Deux Mondes. He wished to discuss with Palin some means for discovering me, and as the Huguenot, fearing to return to the Rue Varenne after what had happened, and yet was unwilling to leave Paris, had sought Pantin's home, de Belin had determined to pass the night here to consult with him, giving out to his people that he had gone on a business to Monceaux.
'I will see Sully the first thing to-morrow,' he said, as we discussed our plans, 'and if I mistake not it is more than Madame we will find at the Toison d'Or. Be of good cheer, d'Auriac, your lady will come to no harm. The Camarguer is playing too great a game to kill a goose that is likely to lay him golden eggs. I'm afraid though he has spoilt a greater game for his master.'
'How do you mean?' I asked, interested in spite of myself.
'Only this, that unless you are extremely unfortunate I regard the rescue of Madame de Bidache as certain. I am as certain that this will lead to the arrest of de Gomeron and his confederates. They will taste the wheel, and that makes loose tongues, and it may lead to details concerning M. de Biron that we sadly need.'
'It seems to me that the wheel is perilously near to me as well.'
'There is the Edict, of course,' said de Belin, 'but Madame's evidence will absolve you, and we can arrange that you are not put to the question at once.'
The cool way in which he said this would have moved me to furious anger against him did I not know him to be so true a friend. As it was I said sharply—
'Thank you, I will take care that the wheel does not touch me.'
'Very well,' he answered; 'and now I shall sleep; good night.'
He turned on his side and seemed to drop off at once, and as I lay through the weary hours of that night I sometimes used to turn to the still figure at my side with envy at the peace of his slumber.
At last, just as my patience was worn to its last shred, I saw the glaze in the window begin to whiten, and almost immediately after heard footsteps on the landing. This was enough for me, and, unable to be still longer, I sprang out of bed and hastened to open the door myself. It admitted Jacques, and a figure in whom I should never have recognised the notary had I not known that it could be no other than Pantin. Jacques bore a tray loaded with refreshments, and Pantin held a lantern, for it was still dark, in one hand, and something that looked like the folds of a long cloak hung in the loop of his arm. The noise of their entrance awoke de Belin. With a muttered exclamation I did not catch, he roused himself, and, the candles being lit, we proceeded to make a hasty toilet. As I drew on my boots I saw they were yet wet and muddy, and was about to rate Jacques when Pantin anticipated, 'I told him to let them be so, monsieur,—you have a part to play; put this over your left eye.' And with these words he handed me a huge patch. Then, in place of my own hat, I found I had to wear a frayed cap of a dark sage-green velvet, with a scarecrow-looking white feather sticking from it. Lastly, Pantin flung over my shoulders a long cloak of the same colour as the cap, and seemingly as old. It fell almost down to my heels, and was fastened at the throat by a pair of leather straps in lieu of a clasp.
'Faith!' exclaimed the Vicompte, as he stood a little to one side and surveyed me, 'if you play up to your dress you are more likely to adorn, than raise the gallows Jacques spoke of.'
But I cut short his gibing with an impatient command to Pantin to start. The little man, however, demurred—
'You must eat something first, monsieur—not a step will I budge till you have done that.'
I forced myself to swallow a little, during which time our plans of overnight were hastily run over; Palin, who had joined us, declared he would go to the Princess Catherine, and seek her aid. We knew that was useless, but not desiring to thwart the old man let him have his will. It was decided, however, in case I had anything to communicate, that I should hasten to the Rue de Bourdonnais, and that in the meantime the Vicompte would see the Master-General at once and try what could be done. This being settled, and having ordered Jacques, who protested loudly, to stay behind, Pantin and I started off on our search for the Toison d'Or.
As he closed the entrance door behind him carefully, and Jacques turned the key, I looked up and down the Rue des Deux Mondes, but there was not a soul stirring.
''Tis the cold hour, monsieur,' said Pantin, shivering as he drew the remnant of a cloak he wore closer over his shoulders, 'and we are safe from all eyes,' and then I noticed for the first time that his feet were bare, and that he carried a pair of old shoes in one hand and an empty basket in the other.
'But you are not going like that, man!' I said; 'you will catch a fever.'
'We are going to the Faubourg St. Martin, monsieur, and there is no danger of the plague now.'
Though I could not but feel more than grateful for the way in which the good fellow was labouring for me, I said nothing, but followed him as he entered the mist that rose from the river and clung heavily to its banks.
It was, as Pantin had said, the cold hour, and all Paris was asleep. Above us the sky still swarmed with stars, though a pale band of light was girdling the horizon. Here and there in the heaving mist on the river we saw the feeble glimmer of a lanthorn that had survived through the night and still served to mark the spot where a boat was moored. All around us the outlines of the city rose in a brown silhouette; but the golden cross on the spire of Notre Dame had already caught the dawn and blazed like a beacon against the grey of the sky overhead.
As the Pont au Change was the latest of the bridges to close, it was the earliest to open; but when we came there we had to cool our heels for half an hour or so before we could pass through; and by that time the city was already beginning to awake. I could not repress a slight shudder as we passed the dreary walls of the Chatelet, just as the guard was being changed at the gate, and thought by how lucky a chance I had escaped being a guest of M. de Breze.
Once past the Chatelet we pushed on briskly, and by the time we had reached St. Jacques we were warm enough, despite the chillness of the morning. At a stall near the church, and hard by the Pont Notre Dame, Pantin purchased a quantity of vegetables, bidding me to keep a little ahead of him in future and guide him in this manner as far as I knew. Whilst he was filling his basket I turned up the Rue St. Martin, wondering what the notary's object could be in transforming himself into a street hawker. I went slowly, stopping every now and again to see if Pantin was following, and observed that he kept on the side of the road opposite to me, and ever and again kept calling out his wares in a monotonous sing-song tone. Thus far and for a space further I knew the road, and, observing that Pantin was able to keep me well in view, increased my pace until at last we came to the cross street near which I had met the jealous Mangel and his wife. Up the cross street I turned without hesitation, now almost facing the tall spire that had been my landmark, and I began to think I would be able to trace my way to the Toison d'Or without difficulty when I suddenly came to a standstill and faltered. For here there were half a dozen lanes that ran this way and that, and for the life of me I could not tell which was the one I had taken but a few hours before, so different did they look now to what they had appeared by moonlight. As I halted in a doubting manner Pantin hurried up, and, there being one or two near me, began to urge me to buy his cabbages. I made a pretence of putting him off, and then, the strangers having passed, I explained I had lost my bearings. 'I see a wine shop open across the road, chevalier—go in and call for a flask and await me,' he answered rapidly.
I nodded, and bidding him begone in a loud tone, swaggered across the street, and entering the den—it could be called by no other name—shouted for a litre of Beaugency, and flung myself down on a rough stool with a clatter of my sword and a great showing of the pistol butts that stuck out from my belt.
The cabaret had just opened, but early as I was I was not the first customer, for a man was sitting half-asleep and half-drunk on one of the foul-looking benches, and as I called for my wine, he rose up, muttering, 'Beaugency! He wants Beaugency—there is none here,' he went on in a maudlin manner, turning to me. 'At the Toison d'Or——'
I almost started at the words; but the landlord, whose face appeared from behind a cask at my shout, and whose countenance now showed the utmost anger at his old client's speech, suddenly seized him by the neck and hustled him from the room—'The drunken knave!' he said with a great oath, 'to say that I kept no Beaugency—here, captain,' and he handed me a litre, with a much-stained glass, 'here is Beaugency that comes from More's own cellars,' and he looked knowingly at me.
Not wishing to hold converse with the fellow, I filled the glass, and then, flinging him a crown, bade him drink the rest of the bottle for good luck. The scoundrel drank it there and then, and as soon as he had done so returned to the charge.
'It is good wine—eh, captain?'
'It is,' I answered drily; but he was not to be denied.
'Monsieur is out early, I see.'
'Monsieur is out late, you mean,' I made answer, playing my part, and longing for Pantin to return.
'Ho! ho!' he roared; 'a good joke—captain, I do not know you, but tell me your name, and, curse me, if I do not drink your health in Arbois the day you ride to Montfaucon.'
'You will know my name soon enough,' I answered, humouring the fellow, 'and I promise to send you the Arbois the day I ride there. I may tell you that it was to the Toison d'Or I was recommended by my friends; but your Beaugency and your company are so goodcompèrethat I shall make this my house of call during my stay in the Faubourg St. Martin.'
'Damn the Toison d'Or,' he exclaimed, 'and you are a good fellow. Let me warn you in turn that the Toison d'Or is no longer safe.'
'What do you mean?' I asked, leaning forwards.
'For you, and for me, monsieur.'
'Ah—my luck is good as your wine,' and at that moment I caught sight of Pantin. 'There is another crown to drink to our friendship, and mind you keep as good a flask for me against my return at noon—au revoir!I have a business at my lodging.'
The wretch overwhelmed me with thanks and stood at the door watching me as I crossed over the street, with a warning glance to Pantin, and strolled slowly onwards. A little further on I turned to my left, keeping well in the middle of the road to avoid the filth and refuse thrown carelessly on each side, and as I turned I saw that my man had gone in. I was certain of one thing, that the Toison d'Or was not far off, and whilst I picked my way slowly along Pantin came up to me with his sing-song whine.
'Have you found it?' I asked in a low tone.
'No,' he sang out.
At this moment a figure rose up from the steps of a house where I had noticed it crouching, a few feet from me, and swung forwards.
'Hola! 'Tis Monsieur le Capitaine! Has your excellency tasted the Beaugency—the dog-poison. I tell your excellency there is but one house in the Faubourg where they sell it—the Toison d'Or.'
'Go and drink some there, then,' and I tossed him a piece of silver.
He picked it up from the road where it had fallen like a dog snatching at a bone, and then stood surveying the coin, which he held in the open palm of his hand.
'Youmight,' he said; 'they would not serve me,' and then with a drunken familiarity he came close to my elbow. 'I'll show you the Toison d'Or. It is there—the second turn to the left and then straight before you. As for me, I go back to taste Grigot's Beaugency—his dog-poison,' he repeated with the spiteful insistence of a man in his cups.
'The fool in his folly speaketh wisdom!' Pantin muttered under his breath, and then the man, staggering from me, attempted to go back whence he had been flung, but either the morning air was too strong for him, or else he was taken with a seizure of some kind, for ere he had gone ten paces he fell forwards on his face, and lay there in the slime of the street.
At any other time I would have stopped to assist the man, but now I could only look upon his condition as a direct interposition of Providence and I let him lay where he had fallen.
'Come, Pantin,' I cried, 'we have found the spot.'
Following the directions given by our guide we found he had not deceived us, and in a few minutes I was standing at the entrance of the blind passage, at one end of which was the Toison d'Or.
The wasps' nest was not yet awake, but as I stood for a moment discussing with Pantin what we should do next, a couple of men well muffled in cloaks passed down the lane on the opposite side, and it was all I could do to preserve an expression of unconcern on my face, for in one of the two I recognised Lafin. He, too, stooped for a moment, as if to fasten a point that had come undone, and, whilst doing so, fixed his eyes full on me. I met his gaze as one might look at a perfect stranger, but seeing he continued it, put my hand to the hilt of my sword with a scowl. The doubt on his face cleared on the instant to a look of relief, and I saw his thin lips curve into a slight smile of contempt as he rose and walked quietly after his companion. That swaggering movement of my hand to my sword-hilt had convinced him that I was one of the swashbucklers of the Faubourg St. Martin, and as such unworthy even of the contempt of the heir of the Vidame.
'Who is it?' asked Pantin, who had been observing me closely.
'Lafin.'
'Are you sure, monsieur?'
I nodded, and he went on, 'Then, monsieur, if I mistake not, M. le Vicompte is right, and we hunt the boar as well as the wolf. I will give word of this at the Arsenal before three hours are over.'
We then went slowly towards the Toison d'Or in the same order on which we had come up the Rue St. Martin, my heart full of strange misgivings at Lafin's presence in the street. The sun had already whitened the gables of the houses, but so narrow was the passage that it seemed as if it must always be in shadow. There were a few people stirring—one or two street urchins, who flung gibes at Pantin, but gave me a wide berth; half a dozen women, in whose faces sin and want had set their seals, and a man or two of the worst class. Beyond the high, dead wall which closed in the passage I could now see the tops of some trees, and judged from this that we were almost upon the walls of Paris, and in this, as it turned out, I was right. At last I came opposite the Toison d'Or. The gate leading into the little court was shut, and so was every window facing the street. The signboard was swinging sadly over the closed door, and at the first glance it looked as if the house was deserted. For a moment the thought struck me to knock boldly at the door, and when it was opened to force my way in and trust to luck for the rest, but I was cooled on the instant when I thought what failure meant. I would trust as little to chance as possible. I passed slowly on, and found that the Toison d'Or joined on to another, but much smaller, house which had its bound set to it by the wall that crossed the street. The sash of a window on the top story of this house was up, and as I came up to it the front door swung open and a man stood on the steps and looked me full in the face. As my glance passed him, I saw that the door opened into a room that was used apparently as a shop for all kinds of miscellaneous articles, and the man himself would have stood well for the picture of a thieves' fence, which, indeed, he was.
'A good morning, captain,' he said. 'Will you buy—or have you come to sell?' he asked, dropping his voice.
As he spoke, Pantin came up and began to importune the man from a safe distance to purchase his wares, but beyond a curse had no further attention paid to him, and with a disappointed air he went slowly back towards the Toison d'Or. It flashed upon me that something had fallen my way. 'I have come to buycompère,' I answered, and, stepping into the shop, began to examine a few cast-off doublets, and flung them aside, demanding one on which the gold lace was good. A woman joined the man at this time, and whilst they were rummaging amongst their stores I hastily ran over in my mind the plan I had formed. If I could get a lodging here I would be in a position to watch who came and went from the house and strike my blow with deliberation and certainty. So at last when the doublet was shown to me, though the price was exorbitant I paid it without demur, and on the man asking if it should be sent to my lodging, I pretended to hesitate for a moment, and then explaining that as I had just come to Paris, and was in search of a lodging, I would take the doublet with me.
'Monsieur must have scaled the city walls last night, then?' the man said with a sly look.
'Exactly,' I answered.
The woman, however, here cut in and explained that if it was a lodging I needed they could accommodate me.
'All the more if you buy as well as you do now, captain,' said the man.
'I will sell you as cheap as you want besides,' I answered, 'but let me see the rooms.'
'There is but one room, monsieur,' answered the woman, 'but it is large and furnished,' and then she led me up the stairway. The room was certainly large beyond the ordinary, but I was disappointed beyond measure at finding that it was at the back of the house and would prevent me from watching who came in and out of the Toison d'Or. I objected to the situation, saying that I wanted a room overlooking the street.
'There is none,' she answered shortly, 'but if monsieur desires to look on the street he may do so from the window at the end of this passage.'
She pointed to a narrow passage that led from the door of the room to a small hanging turret, and from the arched windows of this I saw that I could see all I wanted without being seen myself. The woman seemed to be of the same kidney as her husband, and drove a close bargain, and after much pretended haggling I closed with her terms, and arranged also for her to bring me my meals, explaining that for the next week or so I would stay indoors as my health was not good.
'I understand, monsieur,' she said, showing her teeth.
'Then it is settled, and I will step down and bring up the doublet which I left in the shop.' With these words I counted out the rent and the money for my board, coin by coin, into her hand, as if each piece I disgorged was my last, and then stepping down, found, as I expected, Pantin at the door.
The man was for ordering him away, but his wife insisted on making a purchase, in which I joined, and the fence going upstairs at that time, we three were left together. It was all important to get rid of the woman for a moment or so, and Pantin, seeing this, sold his whole basket load at a price so small that it raised even her astonishment.
'I have sold it for luck,' he said, 'but if madame wishes, I will sell her daily at the same rate.'
'Could you bring me fruit at the same price?' I asked.
'Why not?' he answered.
'Then bring me some to-morrow.'
'Certainly, captain. Where shall I put these, madame?'
But she bore them away herself, and this gave me the opportunity.
'Pantin,' I said, 'I have taken a room here—you understand?'
'And I,' he answered, 'have sold a cabbage to Babette. If you hear nothing more, meet me at dusk in the square behind St. Martin's.'
There was no time to say more, for we heard the fence coming back. Pantin went off down the street, and I, after a word or two with the man, and an order to his wife regarding my meals, went slowly up to my room.
Once back in my room, I flung off my cloak and took a survey of my new quarters. The room was long and low, and situated in the topmost story of the house. In one corner was a settle covered with a faded brocade, whilst on the other side there was a wardrobe and a few necessaries. The bed was placed at the extreme end of the room, and close to the window which overlooked the back of the house, and through which, from where I stood, the blue sky alone was visible, there was a table and a couple of chairs. Between the table and the bed intervened a clear space, about ten feet by six, covered with a coarse carpeting. If I am thus precise in my description, I would say I have done so in order to explain clearly what follows.
So far things were satisfactory enough, and beyond what I had a right to expect in such a locality. The one drawback was that I would be compelled to use the turret at the end of the passage for my watch, and thus run the risk of being observed from the other houses. In the meantime I determined to see exactly what could be effected from the window, and pushing the table aside, so as to get a better view, looked out. I then saw that the house I was in as well as the Toison d'Or were both built against the remains of the old walls of Paris. Below me there was a sheer drop of fifty or sixty feet, right into the bed of the abandoned fosse, which was covered by a thick undergrowth and full ofdébris, A little beyond the fosse was a portion of what was known as the new wall. This was perhaps in a more ruinous condition than the fortification it was supposed to have replaced. The brushwood grew thick and high against it, and I could see the gap where a breach had been effected, probably during the last siege, when the Sixteen and Madame de Montpensier held Paris against the two kings. Beyond that stretched the open country, where, had I a mind to linger on the view, I might have made out the windings of the river, the houses of Corneuve, and the woods of Dugny and Gonesse. But it was not of these I was thinking, for in that survey I had grasped the fact that de Gomeron could not have chosen a spot better suited for his purposes than the Toison d'Or. It was a part of Paris as secure as if it had been cut off from the city and set in some unknown island, such as those who sail to the New World describe. I thought at first of stopping any further concern with the window, but as I was turning away I looked rather particularly at the wall below me, and saw that a ledge ran along it about three feet below the window. Following its track with my eyes, I observed that it was carried along the face of the Toison d'Or, and in doing this I became aware that there was a window open at the back of Babette's house, and that this was situated on the same level as my room, but just about the middle instead of the extreme end, as mine was. When I considered the position of this window, and that its look-out was on a place where never a soul seemed to come, I could not but think that if Madame were in the Toison d'Or, that in all probability her room was there, and I swore bitterly to myself at the thought of how impossible it would be to reach her. I then craned out and looked upwards, and saw that my house was a half-story lower than the Toison d'Or, and that, whilst the latter had a high sloping roof, the portion of the building in which I was appeared to be a long and narrow terrace with a low machicolated parapet running along the edge. Thus if there were a door or window in the Toison d'Or that opened on to my roof, it would be possible to step out thereon; and then I drew back, my blood burning. If it was possible to step out from the Toison d'Or on to the roof of the house I occupied, it might be equally easy to get thence into the Toison d'Or. Taking my sword, I measured the distance of the ledge from the window-sill, and then, holding on to the mullions by one hand, stretched out as far as I could, and found I could just touch the top of the parapet with the point of my blade. In short, the position was this: that so hard and smooth was the outside of the wall, it was impossible for anything save a lizard to get along it to the window behind which I supposed Madame was prisoned; yet it was feasible, with the aid of a rope thrown over the grinning head of the gargoyle a little above me, or else over the low battlement of the parapet, to reach the roof, and the odds were in favour of there being some sort of a door or window that would give ingress thence into the Toison d'Or. I began after this to be a little more satisfied with my quarters, and determined to set about my explorations about the dinner hour, when most people would be within, and the chance of discovery reduced to a minimum. I did not feel justified in putting the matter off until nightfall, as I have often observed that there was no time so good as the one I had chosen for affairs which depended much for their results upon a surprise. I now stepped out of my room, and, walking along the passage, looked out from the little turret along the face of the street. It was more alive than I had ever seen it before, but the occupants were principally women and children, with a man or so here and there. I saw that whilst the sunlight fell in patchwork and long narrow stretches on the street, it was bright enough where I was, and I perceived I had a good excuse for spending such time as I intended to behind the embrasures of the turret. And this excuse I had to bring into play at once, for as I stood there I heard a footstep on the passage, and, turning, observed the woman of the house.
'I see,' she began, 'you are already in your turret.'
'I like the sun, my good woman, and have had a long journey.'
Something in my tone made her look at me oddly, and I began to wish I were well away from the keen scrutiny of her eyes. She dropped thetutoyerand asked:
'If monsieur is tired he would probably like his dinner earlier.'
'Morbleu!The very thing, madame, and as long a bottle of Beaugency as you can get with it.'
'It shall be done, monsieur,' and she turned to go.
It struck me as a little odd that she should have come up in this aimless manner; but reflecting that perhaps, after all, it was due to nothing more than a desire to gratify feminine curiosity by spying what I was about, I dismissed the matter.
After allowing a little time to elapse I descended to the shop and began carelessly running my eyes over the miscellaneous collection of articles therein. The fence followed me about, now recommending this thing and now that. At last I saw what looked to be a ball of rope lying in a corner and covered with dust.
'What is that?' I inquired, touching it with the point of my sword.
The man stooped without a word and, picking it up, dusted it carefully, then he unrolled a ladder of silken cord, about twelve or fifteen feet in length.
'This, captain,' he said, swinging it backwards and forwards, 'belonged, not so long ago, to M. de Bellievre, though you may not believe me.'
'I have no doubt you are speaking the truth, but it seems rather weak.'
'On the contrary, monsieur, will you test it and see?'
We managed to do this, by means of two hooks that were slung from a beam above us, in a manner to satisfy me that the ladder was sufficient to bear double my weight, and then, as if content with this, I flung it aside.
'Will not monsieur take it?' asked the man; 'it is cheap.'
'It is good enough,' I answered, 'if I had a business on hand, but at present I am waiting.'
'If monsieur has leisure I might be able to give him a hint that would be worth something in crowns.'
'I am lazy when in luck,compère. No, I will not take the ladder.'
'It may come in useful, though, and will occupy but a small space in monsieur's room'—and seeing that I appeared to waver—'shall I take it up, I will let it go for ten crowns?'
'Five crowns or nothing,' I said firmly. 'But it is of the finest silk!'
'I do not want to buy—you can take my price or leave it.'
'Very well then, monsieur, thanks, and I will take it up myself.'
'You need not trouble, I am going up and will take it with me.'
With these words I took the ladder, folded in long loops, in my hand and went back to the turret. There I spent a good hour or so in re-examining it, and splicing one or two parts that seemed a trifle weak, at the same time keeping a wary eye on who passed and repassed the street, without, however, discovering anything to attract attention. Finally, the woman brought up my dinner, and I managed to eat, after a fashion, but made more play with the Beaugency, which was mild and of a good vintage. When the table was cleared, I sat still for about half an hour or so, playing with my glass, and then rising, saw that my door was securely fastened in such a manner that no one could effect an entrance, except by bursting the lock. This being done I removed my boots and unslung my sword, keeping my pistols, however, in my belt, and after a good look round, to see that no one was observing me, managed to loop the ladder round the gargoyle, and then tested it once more with a long pull. The silk held well enough, but the stonework of the gargoyle gave and fell with a heavy crash into the fosse below. It was a narrow business, and it was well I had tried the strength of the cord again. I looked out from the window cautiously to see if the noise had attracted any attention, and found to my satisfaction that it had not. After allowing a little time to elapse, so as to be on the safe side, I attempted to throw the looped end I had made to the ladder so that it might fall over the parapet, between two embrasures, but discovered, after half a dozen casts, that this was not feasible from where I stood. Then I bethought me of my boyhood's training amongst the cliffs that overhung the bay of Auriac, and, stepping out on to the ledge of the window, managed with an effort to hold on to the stump of the gargoyle with one hand, and, balancing myself carefully, for a slip meant instant death, flung the loop once more, and had the satisfaction of seeing it fall as I desired. Without any further hesitation I put my foot on the rungs, and in a minute more was lying on my face behind the parapet, and thanking God I had made the effort, for before me was a large skylight, half open, from which I could command a view of the interior of one room at least of the Toison d'Or, and by which it might be possible to effect an easy entrance. Before going any further, however, I glanced round me to see how the land lay, and was delighted to find that I could not be observed from the opposite side of the street, as the portion of the house I was on was concealed from view by the gabled roof that rose about ten feet from me, leaving me in a sort of long balcony. Now that I think of it, this roof must have been an after-thought on the part of the builders; then I was but too thankful to find it existed, and had no time for reflections. By turning my head I could see, too, that the high wall that shut in the mouth of the passage was evidently raised as a barrier between the street and the fosse, which took a bend and ran immediately below the wall. After lying perfectly still for a little, I slowly pushed myself forwards until at last I was beneath the skylight, and then, raising myself cautiously, peeped in. I saw a room of moderate size, and well but plainly furnished. In the centre was an oblong table covered with a dark cloth, and round about it were set a number of chairs. The skylight alone admitted light, and from this to the floor of the room was a matter of twelve feet or so. The chamber was empty, and I had more than half a mind to risk the descent, when the door was opened and Babette stepped in. I shrank back as low as possible, and observed that she was making arrangements for some one, for she placed a couple of decanters with glasses on the table, arranged the chairs, and then, after taking a look round, went out once more. I made up my mind to wait, and, settling myself under the skylight, began to exercise my patience. After an hour or so had passed I heard the door opened again, and then the sound of voices. Presently some one called out, 'We had better shut the skylight,' and then another voice, this time Lafin's, said, 'No, it is no use, and we will want light to see.'
Once more I raised myself and leaned against the edge of the opening, eyes and ears intent. There were three men in the room—Lafin, de Gomeron, and another whom I did not know, but whom I judged to be an Italian from his manner of pronouncing our language. They were all three seated round the table, poring over a number of documents and conversing in low tones. After a time it appeared to me that Lafin was urging something on de Gomeron, and the free-lance, who was short of temper, brought his clenched hand on the table in a manner to make the glasses ring, whilst he said with an oath—
'I will not—I have risked too much. I have told you before that I did not come into this for the good of my health. My prize is my own. It has nothing to do with your affair, of which I am sick.'
The other man then cut in—
'I do not see, M. de Lafin, why we should drag this matter into our discussion. If M. de Gomeron wants a wife, well—many a fair dame has had a rougher wooing than the lady you speak of. But I—I have cause for complaint. I come here expecting to meet the Marshal—and I meet you and monsieur here. I mean no offence, but I must tell you plainly my master's instructions are that I should hear M. de Biron's promises and take his demands from his own lips.
'And what about Epernon, Bouillon, and Tremouille, count?' asked de Gomeron.
The dark eyes of the stranger flashed on him for a moment.
'My master, the Duke of Savoy, knows their views.'
'Personally?'
The Italian waved his hand with a laugh. 'Gentlemen, I have given you my terms—it is for you to choose. As for my part, I would that my master dropped this business and trusted the day to his sword.'
'That is not wont to be M. de Savoye's way,' sneered Lafin, and the Italian rose.
'Very well, messieurs. I will then consider the issue is closed.'
'It matters not a rush to me,' exclaimed de Gomeron; but Lafin, who was moodily plucking at his moustache, spoke again, and the tones of his voice were full of chagrin.
'As you wish—I undertake that the Marshal sees you.'
'Where and when? My time is precious.'
'Here, at ten o'clock to-night.'
'Maledetto!This is not a place to come at that hour.'
'It is safe—and it would be safer still if you stayed here till then. The spies of the Master-General—curse him—are everywhere, and M. de Gomeron will guarantee your protection here.'
'I am deeply grateful,' the count bowed slightly, a faint tone of irony in his voice. 'Then you agree?'
'Yes.'
'This being so, perhaps you had better go over these notes that you may be in a position to exactly understand what we can do. Our terms of course are as before, but we will require money, and that at once.'
'But large advances have already been made,' objected the Italian.
'They are gone,' said Lafin.
'How? Nothing has been done; and both Velasco and Savoy are unwilling to throw more money into the business unless some action is taken. How has the money gone?'
'It is gone, and there is an end of it,' exclaimed Lafin sullenly. 'As for the action you wish taken—you have asked to see the Marshal, and he will inform you.'
'Very well! Until then, monsieur, we will not discuss this point further.'
The voices dropped again after this, and they began to pore over the papers and a map that the free-lance had spread before him, making an occasional remark which I did not follow. But I had heard enough to be convinced that the plot of Anet was still in full life. It was all important for me now to communicate what I knew at once to the Master-General. With a little ordinary care the conspirators could be trapped to a man, and if by one stroke I could effect this, as well as free Madame, anything was possible. Without further hesitation I therefore crept slowly back, and descended to my chamber as softly as a cat. Leaving the ladder swinging where it was—for I could not undo the knot—I drew on my boots, and went to the turret to reconnoitre before venturing out into the street. Imagine my chagrin and disappointment to see that three men were at the gate of the Toison d'Or, evidently on the watch, and in one of them I made out Ravaillac. I might have passed the others without discovery, but it would be impossible to escape the lynx eyes of this villain, who, though young in years, had all the craft of age, and who later on was to raise himself to an eminence so bad that I know not whom to place beside him, except perhaps those who were his aiders and abettors. I did not fear to run the gauntlet—that was an easy matter; but merely doing so would make my birds take to wing, and I found myself compelled once more to hold patience by the tail until the coast was clear.