The Chevalier d'Auriac Part 33

'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, _compere_. No, I will not take the ladder.'

'It may come in useful, though, and will occupy but a small s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed the street, without, however, discovering anything to attract attention. Finally, the woman brought up my dinner, and I managed to eat, after a fas.h.i.+on, 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 gla.s.s, 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sage 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 gla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sed 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 p.r.o.nouncing our language. They were all three seated round the table, poring over a number of doc.u.ments 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 gla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sed 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.

CHAPTER XIX

'PLAIN HENRI DE BOURBON'

Imagine what it was to me, to whom every moment was worth its weight in gold, to see the group, and, above all, Ravaillac, standing at the door of the Toison d'Or. Was there ever such cross-grained luck? If I could but pa.s.s down that narrow street without the hawk's eye of the Flagellant falling on me I might in an hour do all and more than I had ever hoped for. I could---- But _tonne dieu!_ What was the use of prating about what might be. Through the embrasure of the turret I covered Ravaillac with my pistol, and twice half pressed the trigger and twice restrained myself. Even if he fell the shot would ruin all.

It could not be risked, and I thrust the long, black barrel back into my belt with a curse, and began to walk restlessly to and fro in the pa.s.sage. It was impossible for me to keep still, my nerves were so strung. In a little I began to cool and sought my room, determined to occasionally take a turn to the turret and see if the guard was gone, but not to hara.s.s myself by watching them continually. In about an hour or so I wearied of sitting and looked out of my window again in the direction of Madame's room, as I called it to myself. At the moment of my doing so the shutter that was open towards my side suddenly closed. I could just make out a flash of white fingers on the dark woodwork, and then the face I longed to see looked out from the half of the window still open and drew back again almost on the instant. Feeling sure that she would look out once more, I leaned forwards. Madame did as I expected, and I could see the astonishment on her face and hear her cry of joy. She tried to converse with me by signals on her fingers, and for the first time I had occasion to bless what I had up to now considered a foolish accomplishment that I picked up as a boy when I was with Monseigneur de Joyeuse. Enough that Madame made me understand that she was well treated, and I let my dear know that there were those at work who would soon free her, and perhaps there was a word or so besides on a subject which concerned us two alone. It was in the midst of this part of our converse that she drew back all at once with a warning finger on her lips, and though I waited again for a full hour, forgetting the watchers below in the fresh fears that began to a.s.sail me, I did not see her again. At the end of that time, however, a white kerchief waved twice from the window and was then withdrawn. I turned back into my room, and now that I was certain she was there my impatience at being penned up as I was became almost insupportable, and heaven alone knows how I held myself in from making a dash for it and risking all on the venture. To cut the matter short, it wanted but a few minutes to sundown when, to my relief, I saw a cloaked figure I could not recognise step out of the Toison d'Or, and, after giving a few orders to the guards, pa.s.s briskly down the street. They in their turn went into the house, and at last the road was clear. I hesitated no further and hurried down the stairs. At the door I was stopped by my host, who inquired whither I was hastening.

'I have just seen a friend,' I answered, and the next moment was in the street. As I pressed forwards I had two minds about keeping my appointment with Pantin in the square behind St. Martin's, but as I went on I reflected that I had to pa.s.s that way, and as I might need the notary's aid I would wait there a few minutes, and if he did not come, go straight to de Belin with my news.

Although I was not in a frame of mind to observe what was going on around me, I soon became conscious that one of those sudden fogs which extend over the city at this period of the year had arisen, as it were, out of nothing, and in the course of a few minutes I was compelled to slacken pace and pick my way slowly, and with the greatest caution in regard to landmarks, for I could not risk losing my way again. The fog was not a thick one, but it was sufficient, united with the coming evening, to almost blur out the streets and houses and make the figures of pa.s.sers-by loom out like large and indistinct shadows. Carefully as I had tried to impress the way on my memory, I hesitated more than once as to the route I should take, and it was with something that was like a sigh of relief that I found myself at last behind St. Martin's, whose spire towered above me, a tall, grey phantom. Here I halted for a moment to see if one of the few shadows that flickered now and then through the haze might give some signal by which I might recognise Pantin. It was in vain, and, determining to wait no longer, I set off at a round pace, when I was suddenly arrested by hearing the rich tones of a voice singing:

Frere Jacques, dormez-vous?

Dormez-vous, dormez-vous?

The clear notes rang out through the fog, bringing with them a hundred recollections of the time when I had last heard the chorus. And the voice? That was not to be mistaken. It was de Belin, or else his ghost. Without a moment's hesitation I sang back the lines, advancing at the same time in the direction in which I had heard the voice. I had not gone fifty paces when I saw two tall shadows approaching me, and at the same time heard the verse again.

'Lisois!' I called out.

'It is he,' I heard de Belin say.

Then the shadows stopped for a moment, and another and slighter figure joined them. Finally, one came forwards, and, when within a yard or so of me, spoke: