The news of this terrible danger was so wholly unexpected that Guy for a
moment felt almost paralyzed.
"It seems almost incredible that such wickedness could take place!" he
exclaimed.
"My information is certain," the count replied. "I do not say that I think
your Burgundian friends are in so much danger as some of those of the
king's party, as Burgundy's influence with these Parisians goes for
something; still, he might not be able to save them if they waited till
the demand was made, although he might warn them if he learned that they
were to be among those demanded."
"Does the duke, then, know what is intended?"
The count smiled. "We know what followed the last reconciliation," he
said, "and can guess pretty shrewdly at what will happen now. _Then_ the
duke murdered Orleans, _now_ he may take measures against the supporters
of the present duke. It was certain that the struggle would begin again as
soon as the kiss of peace had been exchanged. Last time he boldly avowed
his share in the murder; this time, most conveniently for him, the
Parisians are ready and eager to do his work for him. Dismiss from your
mind all doubt; you can rely upon everything that I have told you as being
true. Whether you can convince these young knights is a matter that
concerns me not; but remember that if you fail to convince your mistress,
her life and those of her children are forfeited; and that, so far as I
can see, her only hope of safety is in taking refuge here."
"I thank you with all my heart," Guy said, "and will now set about
carrying out your advice. First, I will return to my lady and consult with
her, and see what we had best do with the men. As to Count Charles
d'Estournel and his friends, I will see them as soon as I have arranged
the other matter. Their case is not so pressing, for, at least, when once
beyond the gates they will be safe. I will see that my lady and the
children shall be ready to accompany your daughter when she comes for
them."
"Look well up and down the street before you sally out," the count said;
"see that there are but few people about. It is a matter of life and death
that no one who knows you shall see you leave this house."
Guy followed his advice, and waited until there was no one within fifty
yards of the door, then he went out, crossed the street, took the first
turning he came to, and then made his way back to the silversmith's as
fast as he could.
"What ails you, Guy?" Dame Margaret said as he entered the room, "you look
sorely disturbed, and as pale as if you had received some injury."
"Would that that were all, my lady. I have had news from the Count of
Montepone of so strange and grave a nature that I would not tell you it,
were it not that he is so much in earnest, and so well convinced of its
truth that I cannot doubt it."
He then related what the count had told him, and repeated the offer of
shelter he had made.
"This is, indeed, beyond all bounds," she said. "What, is it credible that
the Duke of Burgundy and the king's son, the Duke of Aquitaine, can hand
over to this murderous mob of Paris noble gentlemen and ladies?"
"As to Burgundy, madame, it seems to me from what the count said that he
himself is at the bottom of the affair, though he may not know that the
Parisians demand the lives of some of his own knights as well as those of
his opponents. As he did not of old hesitate to murder Orleans, the king's
own brother, we need credit him with no scruples as to how he would rid
himself of others he considers to stand in his way. As to Aquitaine, he is
a young man and powerless. There are no Orleanist nobles in the town to
whom he might look for aid; and if a king's brother was slain, why not a
king's son? It seems to me that he is powerless."
"That may be; but I cannot consent to what the count proposes. What!
disguise myself! and hide from this base mob of Paris! It would be an
unworthy action."
"It is one that I knew you would shrink from, madame; but pardon me for
saying that it is not your own life only, but those of your children that
are at stake. When royal princes and dukes are unable to oppose these
scoundrel Parisians, women and children may well bend before the storm."
Dame Margaret sat for some time with knitted brows. At last she said: "If
it must be, Guy, it must. It goes sorely against the grain; but for the
sake of the children I will demean myself, and will take your advice. Now
you had best summon the four men-at-arms and talk over their case with
them."
Guy went upstairs and fetched the four men down.
"We have sure news, my friends," Dame Margaret said calmly, "that to-night
we and many others shall be seized by the mob and slain."
An exclamation of rage broke from the four men.
"There will be many others slain before that comes about," Long Tom said.
"That I doubt not, Tom, but the end would be the same. An offer of refuge
has been made to me and the children, and for their sake, unwilling as I
am to hide myself from this base mob, I have brought myself to accept it.
My brave esquire will stay in Paris in disguise, and do what may be to
protect us. I have now called you to talk about yourselves. The gates will
speedily be guarded and none allowed to sally out, therefore what is to be
done must be done quickly."
"We will all stay and share your fate, madame. You could not think that we
should leave you," Robert Picard said, and the others murmured their
agreement.
"You would add to my danger without being able to benefit me," she said,
"and my anxiety would be all the greater. No, you must obey my commands,
which are that you forthwith quit Paris. Beyond that I must leave you to
judge your own course. As French men-at-arms none would question you when
you were once beyond the gate. You may find it difficult to travel in this
disturbed time, but you are shrewd enough to make up some story that will
account for your movements, and so may work your way back to Villeroy. The
difficulty is greater in the case of your English comrade--his height and
that light hair of his and ruddy face would mark him anywhere, and if he
goes with you would add to your danger, especially as his tongue would
betray him as being English the first time he spoke. However, beyond
ordering you to quit Paris, I must leave this matter in your hands and
his, and he will doubtless take counsel with my esquire and see if any
disguise can be contrived to suit him. I will see you again presently. You
had best go with them, Guy, and talk the matter over."
"This thing cannot be done, Master Guy," the archer said doggedly when
they reached their apartments; "it is not in reason. What should I say
when I got home and told them at Summerley that I saved my own skin and
left our dear lady and the children to be murdered without striking a blow
on their behalf? The thing is beyond all reason, and I will maintain it to
be so."
"I can understand what you say, Tom, for I feel exactly as you do. The
question is, how is the matter to be arranged?" Then he broke into French,
which the archer by this time understood well enough, though he could
speak it but poorly.
"Tom is saying that he will not go, men," he said, "and I doubt not that
you feel as he does. At the same time our lady's orders must be carried
out in the first place, and you must leave Paris. But I say not that you
need travel to any distance; on the contrary, I should say that, if it can
be arranged, you must return here in a few days, having so changed your
attire and aspect that there is no fear of your being recognized, and
bestow yourself in some lodging where I may find you if there be need of
your services."
"That is what will be best, Master Guy," Robert Picard said. "We have but
to get steel caps of another fashion to pass well enough, and if need be
we can alter the fashion of our hair. There are few here who have noticed
us, and I consider that there is no chance whatever of our being
recognized. There are plenty of men among the cut-throats here who have
served for a while, and we can easily enough get up some tale that will
pass muster for us three. That matter is simple enough, the question is,
what are we to do with Tom? We cannot shorten his stature, nor give his
tongue a French twist."
"No, that is really the difficulty. We might dye that hair of his and
darken his face, as I am going to do myself. There are tall men in France,
and even his inches would not matter so much; the danger lies in his
speech."
"I would never open my mouth, Master Guy; if need were I would sooner cut
out my tongue with a dagger."
"You might bleed to death in the doing of it, Tom. No; we must think of
something better than that. You might perhaps pass as a Fleming, if we
cannot devise any other disguise."
"Leave that to me, Master Guy, I shall think of something. I will at any
rate hide somewhere near Paris, and the lads here will let me know where
they are to be found, and I shall not be long before I join them in some
such guise as will pass muster. But it will be necessary that we should
know where you will be, so that you can communicate with us."
"That I don't know myself yet; but I will be every evening in front of
Notre Dame when the bell strikes nine, and one of you can meet me there
and tell me where you are bestowed, so that I can always send for you in
case of need. Now I think that you had better lose no time, for we know
not at what hour a guard will be placed on the gate. You had better go out
in pairs as if merely going for a walk. If you are stopped, as may well
happen, return here; but as you come purchase a length of strong rope, so
that you may let yourselves down from the wall. Now that peace has been
made, there will be but slight watch save at the gates, and you should
have no difficulty in evading the sight of any who may be on guard."
"That will be easy enough," Robert Picard said confidently. "We had best
not come back here, for there may be a watch set upon the house and they
may follow us."
"The only thing that troubles me," Tom said, "is that I must leave my bow
behind me."
"You can get another when you get back to Villeroy; there are spare ones
there."
"Yes, yes, but that is not the same thing, Master Guy; a man knows his own
bow, and when he takes to a fresh one his shooting is spoilt until he gets
to know it well. Every bow has its niceties; for rough shooting it makes
but little matter, but when it comes to aiming at the slit in a knight's
vizor at eighty yards one makes poor shooting with a strange bow."
"Well, you must practise with your new one, that is all, Tom; and if you
hide yours here it may be that you will be able to recover it before we
start for Villeroy. You must leave your bundles behind, it would look
suspicious if you were to attempt to take them with you. I should advise
you to put on one suit over the other, it will not add greatly to your
bulk. When you are ready to start, come below and our lady will say good-bye to you. Do not give her a hint that you are thinking of staying near
Paris; if she asks any questions say that you intend to disguise Tom, and
he will travel with you."
A few minutes later there was a tapping at Dame Margaret's door; Guy
opened it and the four men entered.
"I wish you good fortunes, my friends," Dame Margaret said. "Here is a
letter, Robert, that I have written to my lord telling him that you have
all served me faithfully and well, and that I commend you to him. I have
told him that you are leaving me by my special orders, and that you would
willingly have stopped and shared my danger, but that, as I feel that
force would avail nothing and your presence might lead to the discovery of
my hiding-place, I bid you go. Here are four purses to pay the expenses of
your journey and of any disguises you may find it necessary to adopt. And
now farewell. Tarry not an instant, my heart will be lighter when I know
that you are beyond the walls."
She held out her hand to them; each in turn knelt and kissed it, the three
Frenchmen in silence but with tears running down their cheeks. Tom was the
last, and said as he rose:
"I am obeying your orders, Lady Margaret, but never before have I felt, as
I feel now, that I am doing a mean and cowardly action. I would rather
stay by your side, though I knew that I should be cut in pieces this very
night, than leave you thus."
"I doubt it not, Tom. I know well how your inclinations lie, and yet I
feel that it is necessary that you should go. If the great nobles cannot
withstand this cruel mob of Paris, the arm of a single man can avail
nothing, and your presence would bring danger rather than safety to me."
"I feel that, my lady; did I not do so I would not go even at your
command. You are my liege lady, and I have a right to give my life for
you, and would do it were it not that I see that, as you say, my staying
here would bring danger upon you."
As soon as they had gone Dame Margaret said: "Now, Guy, I will detain you
no longer; hasten and warn your friends."
Guy hurried away; he found that Count Charles was on the point of mounting
to go for a ride with some of his friends.
"Stay a moment I beg of you, Count," Guy said as he hurried up, "I have a
matter of most serious import to tell you."
"Wait, my friends," the young count said to Sir Pierre Estelle, Count
Walter de Vesoul, and the Sieur John de Perron, who were already mounted;
"I shall not detain you many minutes."
"Well, what is it, friend Guy?" he asked as he entered his room.
"I have come to warn you of a great danger, Count. This evening a mob of
Parisians, I know not how numerous, but at least of great strength, will
demand from Burgundy and the Duke of Aquitaine the surrender to them of
you and the others who took part in defeating them the other night,
besides other gentlemen, and, as I hear, ladies."
"_Pardieu_! if it be so the duke will give the impudent knaves their
answer."
"Ten thousand armed men are not apt to take an answer, Count. You know
that many times already the Duke of Burgundy has been overborne by the
leaders of these Parisians and forced to do things that must have
displeased him, as they displeased you all, therefore I implore you to
ride off while you may. Even now it is possible that the gales may be
closed, but if so, they are not likely to be strongly guarded. It is
evident that your going would at any rate save the duke from grave
embarrassment."
"Are you sure that this news is true?" the count asked.
"Absolutely certain. If you would save yourself and your friends I pray
you to call upon them at once to mount and ride in a body to one of the
gates. You may bid some of your retainers mount and follow you at a short
distance, and if you find the gates closed and the fellows will not let
you out, call them up and fight your way out. You can stay for to-night at
Sèvres, and if you find in the morning that I have not spoken truly you
can return and upbraid me as you will. If, however, you find that strange
events have happened here, then you had best ride away to Burgundy and
stay there until you find that these villainous knaves here have been
reduced to order, which methinks it will need an army to undertake."
The count went to the window, opened it, and called his friends below to
come up.
"No, no," D'Estelle said laughing; "if we once come up we shall stay
there. If you cannot come now, join us at the Lion d'Or at Sèvres, where
you will find us eating the dinner that we have sent on to order."
"The matter is urgent," D'Estournel said. "I am not joking with you, but
pray you to come up at once."
Seeing that the matter was serious the three knights dismounted and went
up. They were at first absolutely incredulous when they heard from Count
Charles what Guy had told them.
"That the knaves owe us no good-will I know well enough," Count Walter
said, "for they have over and over again laid their complaint against us
before the duke; but it is hard to believe that they would dare to demand
what Burgundy would never grant."
Guy repeated the arguments that he had used with D'Estournel.
"There is no limit," he said, "to the arrogance of these knaves, and in
truth it cannot be denied that they are masters here, and that even the
duke cannot altogether withstand them; and you know, moreover, how
essential is their goodwill to him. But even should he ever so obstinately
refuse their demands they might well take their way without his leave.
What can he, with a handful of knights and a few hundred armed men, do
against the mob of Paris? I earnestly pray you, gentlemen, to treat the
matter as serious. Warn your eight friends without delay; bid your
retainers mount and ride to the gate. If it is open, all the better, it is
but a party of pleasure bound for Sèvres, and if you learn to-morrow
morning that all is quiet here you can return. If it seems better to you,
and this may save you much argument, merely ask your friends to mount and
ride with you to dine there; if any refuse, say you have a motive that
they will learn when they get there, and almost compel them to go with
you. I pledge you my honour that you will have no reason to regret having
taken my advice."
"Well, what do you say, gentlemen?" Count Walter asked. "As Master Aylmer
says, it will at worst be but a carouse, which I hope he will share with
us."
"That I would right gladly do," Guy replied, "but I have the safety of my
lady and her children to look after, for she too, as well as our four men-at-arms, have incurred the enmity of these butchers. I have sent the men
out of the town, and a place of safety has been prepared for her and the
children. I shall see them safely bestowed there at nightfall."
"Since you have thought such preparations necessary we will at any rate
act on the information that you have given us, and will promise not to
blame you unduly should it turn out that the affair you speak of does not
come off. Let us lose no time, gentlemen; let us each go to two of our
friends and take no denial from them to our invitation to dine with us at
Sevres. Let us say nothing to them about bringing their men-at-arms and
grooms with them. We can ourselves muster some thirty fighting men, and
that should be enough with our own swords to bring these knaves to reason
if they keep their gates shut against us."
"As my arrangements are all made," Guy said, "and I have an hour to spare,
I shall walk down towards the gate and see what comes of it."
The four gentlemen at once mounted and rode off,--after giving directions
to their grooms to order their men-at-arms to mount at once and to wait
for them at a spot a quarter of a mile from the gate,--and Guy strolled
off in the same direction. In half an hour he had the satisfaction of
seeing the men-at-arms ride up and halt as ordered. Walking a little
further on he saw that something unusual had happened. Groups of people
were standing about talking, and each man who came up from the gate was
questioned. Joining one of the groups he soon learned that the excitement
was caused by the unusual closing of the gates, no one being allowed
either to enter or pass out. None could account for this proceeding. It
was certain that it had not been done by the orders either of the Dukes of
Aquitaine or Burgundy,--for there were no royal guards or men-at-arms with
the duke's cognizance,--but by men of the city, who, as all agreed, must
be acting under the orders of the butchers.
"It is a bold deed," one said, "for which they will have to account. It is
a usurpation of authority, and one the Duke of Aquitaine, who is now king
in all but name, will surely resent hotly."
"How strong is the party?" one of the bystanders asked, putting the
question that Guy had on his lips.
"Some forty or fifty, all stout fellows with steel caps and breast-pieces,
and well armed."
Guy turned and walked back to the spot where the Burgundian men-at-arms
were drawn up. In ten minutes D'Estournel and his party rode up. Guy was
glad to see that he had with him the whole of his companions. He at once
went up to them.
"The gates are closed, Count, and held by forty or fifty of the townsmen
in arms, so you see that my information was correct. Had you not better
tell your friends of the truth now, for otherwise they might hesitate to
take so grave a step as to attack them?"
D'Estournel nodded, and, riding to the others, said in a low voice:
"Gentlemen, we had not intended to let you into this little mystery until
we had left Paris, but I find it necessary to do so now. I have learned
surely that the rabble of Paris have resolved upon massacring us to-night
for the share we took in that little affair at the provost of the
silversmiths. To that end they have shut the gates, and hold it with some
fifty armed men. It is as well that some of us have brought our men-at-arms here. I can hardly fancy that these rascals will try to prevent us
from passing out, seeing that they have no warrant but their own for
closing the gates against us, but if they do there is nothing for it but
to open them ourselves. Let us ride forward at once, gentlemen, for these
fellows may receive a reinforcement at any time."
So saying, he put spurs to his horse, calling upon the men-at-arms to
follow. His three companions, who were already in the secret, joined him
at once; and the others, after a pause of astonishment and almost
incredulity, followed, in no way loath at the chance of another fight with
the followers of the butchers. As they approached the gate the townsmen
hastily drew up in front of it.
"What means this?" Count Walter de Vesoul said haughtily, as he reined up
his horse a few paces from the line. "By what authority do you dare close
the gates and thus stand armed before them?"
"By the authority of the city of Paris," the leader of the party said
insolently.
"I recognize no such authority while the king and the Duke of Aquitaine,
who holds his full powers, are resident here. Clear the way, my man, and
open the gates, or I will ride over you."
The butcher answered him with a derisive laugh. "It will cost you your
lives if you attempt it," he said.
"Gentlemen, draw your swords and give these rough fellows the lesson they
need;" and, setting the example, he rode at the butcher and cut him down.
The idea that the Burgundian knights would venture to force a passage in
the teeth of the prohibition of the master of the butchers had apparently
not so much as entered the minds of the guard, and as soon as the knights
and their followers fell upon them, the greater portion of them flung down
their arms and fled, a few only fighting stoutly until overpowered. As
soon as the skirmish was over the keys were brought out from the guard-room, and the gate unlocked and the massive bars taken down. In the
meantime some of the men-at-arms had run up on to the wall, hoisted the
portcullis, and lowered the drawbridge across the fosse. As soon as they
returned and mounted the party rode through. As they did so, four men ran
out from a lane near the wall and followed them; and Guy at once
recognized in them the archer and his three companions. Greatly pleased,
he returned to the city and informed Dame Margaret of what had taken
place.
"No doubt," he said, "when they found the gates shut they remembered what
I had said, that I was going to warn Count Charles and his friends, and
went back to observe what these were doing; and the sight of their
retainers going towards the gate must have told them which way they
intended to leave; and they, no doubt, went down and hid up near the gate
to watch the conflict, and to take advantage of it, if a chance offered,
to get off themselves."
"That is indeed a satisfaction, Guy; and I am glad, too, that your friends
got away. There can be no doubt now that the count's information was
accurate; the gates having been closed, as he said they would be, vouches
for this. Katarina has been here; she was dressed this time as an
apprentice in the service of some trader, and brought a large box
containing our disguises and yours. For you there is a bottle of dye for
your hair, a mixture for darkening your skin, and clothes--the latter such
as would be worn by a workman. Charlie is to wear a girl's dress, at which
he is mightily offended; nor is Agnes better pleased, for a boy's suit has
been sent for her. My disguise is simply a long cloak with a hood, such as
is worn by the wives of small traders. Katarina explained that it had been
thought better to change the sex of Agnes and Charlie, so that, when a hue
and cry is raised for a missing woman, with a girl of fourteen, and a boy
of ten, no one should associate the woman with two lads and a little girl,
whom they passed in the street, as being the party for which search is
being made. And now, Guy, do you not think that we should warn our good
host of the danger that threatens, for, doubtless, he also has been marked
out as a victim?"
"I will see him at once, and will tell him as much as it is necessary for
him to know. Assuredly it is now too late for him to escape beyond the
walls, unless he were to take his wife with him, and bring his serving-men
to let them down from the walls; but this, I should think, he will not do,
he would rather take refuge in the house of some of his friends."
The silversmith listened gravely when Guy told him that he had received
sure information that the butchers would that evening make a slaughter of
some of their opponents, that they would be in such force that resistance
would be hopeless, and that the few royal troops and the followers of
Burgundy would be insufficient to make head against them.
"Your news does not surprise me, and though I know not how you came by it,
I fear that it is true. The news that the city gates have been all shut
and are being guarded by strong parties of the butchers' rabble, shows but
too surely that there is danger in the air. In the first place, there is
your lady to be thought of; I must endeavour to obtain for her also
shelter among my friends."
"We have already arranged for a hiding-place for her and the children,
Maître Leroux. I may not name where it is to anyone, but suffice that it
is a quiet house where there is little fear of any suspicions resting upon
them, and where they will be able to remain until order is restored."
"I fear that that will be a long time," the silversmith said. "The
butchers boast that they can place 20,000 men under arms, and indeed the
terror excited by them is so great, that very many who hate their doings
as much as I do myself have been forced to make a semblance of joining
them. Next about your men-at-arms, they are brave fellows and I owe them
much."
"They are all safe outside the walls. Some Burgundian knights, indignant
that this rabble should dare stop them, cut their way out through the Port
St. Denis, and our men took advantage of the gates being open to follow
them."
"And as to yourself, Master Aylmer?"
"I have dyes to blacken my hair and a tincture for darkening my face. I
have also a disguise by which I may pass as an apprentice to a trader. I
shall at all hazards remain in Paris, but what I shall yet do I know not.
And now about yourself and Madame Leroux--you will not, I hope, think of
defending the house as you did before."
"Certainly not; it would not avail to save our lives, and would assuredly
cost those of my servitors and most likely of the women. I have friends,
who will, I hope, gladly take us in. Maître Lepelletiere, the Master
Carpenter, who has been doing my doors, is an old friend of mine, and
after the last attack, urged me to withdraw for a time from the attention
of the mob, and offered me refuge in his place. He lives in the Rue des
Fosses; which is close to the old inner wall that is now for the most part
in ruins. You pass along by the hospital, and when beyond the old wall
turn to the right; 'tis the third doorway. There are no houses facing it,
but it looks straight upon the wall, the ground between being some thirty
or forty yards wide; and doubtless when the house was built, it was before
the present wall was erected, and stood on the outer side of the fosse
round the old one. There are many others of the same trade who live in
that quarter, and as they are for the most part opposed to the butchers, I
doubt not that my friend will have no difficulty in obtaining a lodging
for you among them should no other have been settled upon."
"Thank you indeed," Guy replied; "the arrangement has been made by others,
and I know not for certain what has yet been decided upon, but should not
a suitable place have been chosen I will gladly accept your offer."
"And now I must set to work," the silversmith said.
"In what way?" Guy asked in surprise.
"In hiding my wares. In a city like Paris, with its sieges and its
tumults, a prudent man having goods of great value will assuredly prepare
a place of safety for them. I will set my men to work at once; the
business must be finished before it becomes dark, for as soon as it does
so we must leave the house and close it."
"I have nothing to do at present, and shall be glad to help your men," Guy
said.
He followed the silversmith downstairs. Maître Leroux called his head man.
"We must move, Jacques, and that quickly; you have heard that the gates
are shut."
"Yes, master, people are talking of nothing else."
"I have news that there will be trouble to-night, so we must set to work
at once to place the chests in safety. First let them clear out the wood-cellar."
This was done in a few minutes by the seven men, then Jacques told the
others to go back into the shop and pack up all the silver goods in the
chests. As soon as they were gone Jacques looked inquiringly at his
master, who nodded. Then he touched a brick in the wall some seven feet
above the floor; it sprung back.
"Will you lift me up?" the man said to Guy. The lad did as he was asked,
and the man thrust his arm into the orifice. A moment later he asked Guy
to set him down.
"Go to the doorway," he said, and hurried across to where Maître Leroux
was standing; then kneeling down he pushed his hand under the sill of the
doorway and then stood up.
"Do you hear that?" the silversmith said.
"I hear a dull rumbling somewhere," Guy replied. As he spoke he saw half
the floor, which was apparently of solid flags, beginning to rise.
"This was done in my father's time," Maître Leroux said, "and it was made
for him by Maître Lepelletiere's father with the aid of two or three good
smiths, who put the machinery together at his house and were in ignorance
where it was intended to be placed."
The trap-door was now raised, and Guy to his astonishment saw a stream of
running water three feet below the opening.
"Whence comes this?" he asked in astonishment.
"No wonder you are surprised," the silversmith said; "it was a piece of
rare good-luck that my father hit upon it. A map that he had showed him
that in the old days, before there were any houses on this side of the
river, a narrow branch left the stream some hundred yards above the
position of his house, made a circuit and came into it again as much
below. He inquired among some old men, and learned that they had heard
their grandfathers say that they knew that at some time or other this
stream had been built over when Paris began to grow in this direction.
After he had contrived this apparatus that you see, which is worked by a
heavy counterpoise in the wall, he began to dig, and a foot below the
surface came upon an arch of brickwork, so my father concluded that his
house was exactly over the old stream.
"On breaking through the crown he discovered, as you see, that the water
still flowed through this tunnel, which is some three and a half yards
wide and eight feet deep. My men, all of whom are trusty fellows, know of
the existence of this hiding-place, but Jacques is the only one besides
myself who knows the secret of the opening. Now, Jacques, fetch the chests
along as fast as they are ready."
The chests were soon brought up and one by one lowered. Chains were
attached from the handle of each to that of the one that followed; they
were almost the weight of the water and sank until within an inch-or two
of the surface. Each was floated down as it was lowered, until twenty
great chests had been taken down. Then one more heavy and ponderous than
the rest was attached to the train, and a sloping board being placed from
the cellar floor to the bottom of the stream, the case was allowed to
slide down this until it rested on the bottom several feet beyond the
trap-door.
"There you see," the silversmith said, "even if they discovered the trap-door and broke up the floor with sledgehammers, which would be no easy
matter, and probed the stream with lances, they would find nothing. As you
saw, there is a chain to the end of the last box, which is, as it were, an
anchor to the rest; this chain Jacques will now attach to a strong wire,
and fasten that to a ring below the water's edge, and a foot beyond the
trap-door, so that when danger is past we shall haul up the chain and
recover the cases one by one in the order in which they have been sent
down."
As soon as Jacques had fastened the wire to the ring he touched another
heavy spring under the sill, then pulled hard on the trap-door; this
gradually began to sink, and in a minute was in its place again. At the
same time the brick that had been pushed in above came out into its place
again, dust was then swept into the crack at the edge of the trapdoor, and
no one who had not seen the latter raised would have dreamt of its
existence.