Even as he spoke the plaintive sound of a horn was heard far away in the
distance. Peyrolles spoke: "The first signal. The shepherds have been
told to watch and warn at the wood-ends and the by-path and the causeway
to the bridge. Nevers has entered the forest."
The noble shadow gave a little laugh. "He is riding to his death, the
fool amorist. Come."
Then the two shadows flitted away in the darkness as nebulously as they
had come, and the castle swallowed them up, and Lagardere was alone again
in the moat among the bundles of hay.
"May the devil fly away with you for a pair of knaves!" he said beneath
his breath, apostrophizing the vanished shadows. "But I'll save the child
and Nevers in spite of you." For in those moments of horrid colloquy all
his purpose had been transmuted. These unknown plotters of murder had
confirmed him in his alliance to the man he had come to slay. So long as
Nevers was in peril from these strange enemies, so long Lagardere would
be his friend, free, of course, to rekindle his promise later. But now
even Nevers's life was not of the first importance. There was a child
threatened, a child to be saved. Who were these devils, these Herods,
that sought to slay a baby?
Even as he asked himself this question he could hear through the clear
air the striking of a clock in the distant village. He counted the
strokes from one to ten. This was the time that had been fixed by the
master shadow. Lagardere made his way carefully across the moat till he
stood beneath the designated window. He drew his sword and tapped with
the blade thrice against the pane. Then he sheathed his sword and waited
upon events.