By this time the bravos, who at the beginning of the quarrel had unhooked
their rapiers from the wall, were now pulling their cloaks about them and
making for the main door. The Italian, the Breton, the Spaniard, the
Biscayan, and the Portuguese filed out into the passage, followed by
Æsop, who turned to pay Lagardere a mocking salutation and to say,
tauntingly: "So good-night, gallant captain."
Staupitz, with an air of surly carelessness, sauntered down to the only
other door in the room, the door that led to the domestic offices of the
Inn. While he did so, Cocardasse held out his hand to Lagardere in sign
of amity, but Lagardere refused it. "I am no precisian," he said. "I have
kept vile company. I would not deny my hand to a hang-man. But the most
tolerant philosopher has his dislikes, and mine are assassins."
Cocardasse sighed, and made for the main door, followed by Passepoil, who
said, wistfully, "Adieu, Little Parisian," a greeting of which Lagardere
took no notice.
Now, while Æsop had been saying his taunting farewell to Lagardere he had
been standing with his back to the door, and with his left hand had
dexterously abstracted the key. Also, while Cocardasse had been
endeavoring to gain a clasp of the hand from Lagardere, Staupitz had
quietly locked the door leading to the kitchen and put that key in his
pocket. Now Staupitz, Cocardasse, and Passepoil went in their turn
through the main door and drew it behind them.
Lagardere seated himself at the table with a sigh of relief as he heard
the heavy feet trampling down the passage, but his relief did not last
long. His quick ears caught a sound that was undoubtedly the click of a
key in a lock, followed by the shuffle of cautiously retiring feet. He
instantly sprang to his feet, and, rushing to the main door, caught at
the handle and found the door firmly locked.
"Damn them!" he cried; "they have locked the door." Then he began to
shout, furiously, calling first upon Cocardasse, and then upon Passepoil
by name to open the door immediately, knowing these two to be his friends
among the gang of rascals. But no answer came to his cries, and, vigorous
though he was, his efforts had no effect upon the solid strength of the
door. Turning, he hurried to the door which led to the kitchen and tried
that, only to find that it, too, was locked against him, and that it,
too, was impregnable. He looked about him hurriedly. He knew it was no
use calling for the people of the Inn, who would be sure to side with
their truculent customers, and he knew also that, if he did not succeed
in making his escape from the trap into which he had blundered, Nevers
would be murdered.
He rushed to the window and looked out. The sight was not pleasing. The
rugged rock on which the Inn was perched dropped beneath him thirty feet
to the moat below, and, though his eyes eagerly scanned the face of the
cliff, he could see no possibility, even for one so nimble as himself, of
climbing down it successfully. To jump such a height would be to end as a
jelly and be of no service to Nevers. For a few wild moments he cursed
his folly in having been deluded by the bravos, and then his native high
spirits and his native humor came to his assistance, reminding him that
he always made it his business to look upon the diverting side of life,
and that it was now clearly his duty to seek for the entertaining
elements of the present predicament. Undoubtedly, these were hard to
find. The jest was decidedly a bitter one, and could only be turned to
his taste if he succeeded in getting out. But how was he to succeed? He
tried the door again, despairingly and unsuccessfully as before. He
reflected that perhaps there might be a rope in the room, and anxiously
he looked in every corner. No rope was to be found.
Clapping his hands to his sides in his vexation at being thus baffled, he
touched the soft substance of his silken sash, and instantly an idea
kindled at the touch. "Perhaps this will do," he thought, and hurriedly
proceeded to unwind it. It was a long sash, for it went from his shoulder
to his waist and then three times round his middle, where it was tied in
a large bow with long ends. It was at least fifteen feet long, and as
tough as any hemp that was ever twisted. He fastened one end of it
quickly round a bar in the window, and let the long crimson streamer drop
down the side of the cliff. Using this as a means of descent, it would
bring him half-way down the rock. Hanging by his arms, he would cover
much of the remaining distance, and the drop thence to the ground would
be easy. In another moment he was outside the window, and, grasping the
silk firmly in his strong fingers, began his perilous descent.