Laporte, it seems, was in the habit of seeing patients in his own house
every evening after he had settled all his business for the day. What a
strange contradiction in the human heart, eh, monsieur? The tiger turned
lamb for the space of one hour in every twenty-four--the butcher turned
healer. How well the English milor had gauged the strange personality of
that redoubtable man! Professional pride--interest in intricate
cases--call it what you will--was the only redeeming feature in
Laporte's abominable character. Everything else in him, every thought,
every action was ignoble, cruel and vengeful.
Milor that night mingled with the crowd who waited on the human hyena to
be cured of their hurts. It was a motley crowd that filled the dreaded
pro-consul's ante-chamber--men, women and children--all of them too much
preoccupied with their own troubles to bestow more than a cursory glance
on the stranger who, wrapped in a dark mantle, quietly awaited his turn.
One or two muttered curses were flung at the aristo, one or two spat in
his direction to express hatred and contempt, then the door which gave
on the inner chamber would be flung open--a number called--one patient
would walk out, another walk in--and in the ever-recurring incident the
stranger for the nonce was forgotten.
His turn came--his number being called--it was the last on the list, and
the ante-chamber was now quite empty save for him. He walked into the
presence of the pro-consul. Claude Lemoine, who was on guard in the room
at the time, told me that just for the space of two seconds the two men
looked at one another. Then the stranger threw back his head and said
quietly:
"There's a child dying of pleurisy, or worse, in an attic in the Rue des
Pipots. There's not a doctor left in Lyons to attend on him, and the
child will die for want of medical skill. Will you come to him, citizen
doctor?"
It seems that for a moment or two Laporte hesitated.
"You look to me uncommonly like an aristo, and therefore a traitor," he
said, "and I've half a mind--"
"To call your guard and order my immediate arrest," broke in milor with
a whimsical smile, "but in that case a citizen of France will die for
want of a doctor's care. Let me take you to the child's bedside, citizen
doctor, you can always have me arrested afterwards."
But Laporte still hesitated.
"How do I know that you are not one of those English spies?" he began.
"Take it that I am," rejoined milor imperturbably, "and come and see the
patient."
Never had a situation been carried off with so bold a hand. Claude
Lemoine declared that Laporte's mouth literally opened for the call
which would have summoned the sergeant of the guard into the room and
ordered the summary arrest of this impudent stranger. During the veriest
fraction of a second life and death hung in the balance for the gallant
English milor. In the heart of Laporte every evil passion fought the one
noble fibre within him. But the instinct of the skilful healer won the
battle, and the next moment he had hastily collected what medicaments
and appliances he might require, and the two men were soon speeding
along the streets in the direction of the Rue des Pipots.
* * * * *
During the whole of that night, milor and Laporte sat together by the
bedside of M. le Vicomte. Laporte only went out once in order to fetch
what further medicaments he required. Mme. la Marquise took the
opportunity of running out of her hiding-place in order to catch a
glimpse of her child. I saw her take milor's hand and press it against
her heart in silent gratitude. On her knees she begged him to go away
and leave her and the boy to their fate. Was it likely that he would go?
But she was so insistent that at last he said:
"Madame, let me assure you that even if I were prepared to play the
coward's part which you would assign to me, it is not in my power to do
so at this moment. Citizen Laporte came to this house under the escort
of six picked men of his guard. He has left these men stationed on the
landing outside this door."
Madame la Marquise gave a cry of terror, and once more that pathetic
look of horror came into her face. Milor took her hand and then pointed
to the sick child.
"Madame," he said, "M. le Vicomte is already slightly better. Thanks to
medical skill and a child's vigorous hold on life, he will live. The
rest is in the hands of God."
Already the heavy footsteps of Laporte were heard upon the creaking
stairs. Mme. la Marquise was forced to return to her hiding-place.
Soon after dawn he went. M. le Vicomte was then visibly easier. Laporte
had all along paid no heed to me, but I noticed that once or twice
during his long vigil by the sick-bed his dark eyes beneath their
overhanging brows shot a quick suspicious look at the door behind which
cowered Mme. la Marquise. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind then that
he knew quite well who his patient was.
He gave certain directions to milor--there were certain fresh
medicaments to be got during the day. While he spoke there was a
sinister glint in his eyes--half cynical, wholly menacing--as he looked
up into the calm, impassive face of milor.
"It is essential for the welfare of the patient that these medicaments
be got for him during the day," he said dryly, "and the guard have
orders to allow you to pass in and out. But you need have no fear," he
added significantly, "I will leave an escort outside the house to
accompany you on your way."
He gave a mocking, cruel laugh, the meaning of which was unmistakable.
His well-drilled human bloodhounds would be on the track of the English
spy, whenever the latter dared to venture out into the streets.
Mme. la Marquise and I were prisoners for the day. We spent it in
watching alternately beside M. le Vicomte. But milor came and went as
freely as if he had not been carrying his precious life in his hands
every time that he ventured outside the house.
In the evening Laporte returned to see his patient, and again the
following morning, and the next evening. M. le Vicomte was making rapid
progress towards recovery.
The third day in the morning Laporte pronounced his patient to be out of
danger, but said that he would nevertheless come again to see him at the
usual hour in the evening. Directly he had gone, milor went out in order
to bring in certain delicacies of which the invalid was now allowed to
partake. I persuaded Madame to lie down and have a couple of hours' good
sleep in the inner attic, while I stayed to watch over the child.
To my horror, hardly had I taken up my stand at the foot of the bed when
Laporte returned; he muttered something as he entered about having left
some important appliance behind, but I was quite convinced that he had
been on the watch until milor was out of sight, and then slipped back in
order to find me and Madame here alone.
He gave a glance at the child and another at the door of the inner
attic, then he said in a loud voice:
"Yes, another twenty-four hours and my duties as doctor will cease and
those of patriot will re-commence. But Mme. la Marquise de Mortaine need
no longer be in any anxiety about her son's health, nor will Mme. la
Guillotine be cheated of a pack of rebels."
He laughed, and was on the point of turning on his heel when the door
which gave on the smaller attic was opened and Mme. la Marquise appeared
upon the threshold.
Monsieur, I had never seen her look more beautiful than she did now in
her overwhelming grief. Her face was as pale as death, her eyes, large
and dilated, were fixed upon the human monster who had found it in his
heart to speak such cruel words. Clad in a miserable, threadbare gown,
her rich brown hair brought to the top of her head like a crown, she
looked more regal than any queen.
But proud as she was, monsieur, she yet knelt at the feet of that
wretch. Yes, knelt, and embraced his knees and pleaded in such pitiable
accents as would have melted the heart of a stone. She pleaded,
monsieur--ah, not for herself. She pleaded for her child and for me, her
faithful servant, and she pleaded for the gallant gentleman who had
risked his life for the sake of the child, who was nothing to him.
"Take me!" she said. "I come of a race that have always known how to
die! But what harm has that innocent child done in this world? What harm
has poor old Jean-Pierre done, and, oh ... is the world so full of brave
and noble men that the bravest of them all be so unjustly sent to
death?"
Ah, monsieur, any man, save one of those abject products of that hideous
Revolution, would have listened to such heartrending accents. But this
man only laughed and turned on his heel without a word.
* * * * *
Shall I ever forget the day that went by? Mme. la Marquise was well-nigh
prostrate with terror, and it was heartrending to watch the noble
efforts which she made to amuse M. le Vicomte. The only gleams of
sunshine which came to us out of our darkness were the brief appearances
of milor. Outside we could hear the measured tramp of the guard that had
been set there to keep us close prisoners. They were relieved every six
hours, and, in fact, we were as much under arrest as if we were already
incarcerated in one of the prisons of Lyons.
At about four o'clock in the afternoon milor came back to us after a
brief absence. He stayed for a little while playing with M. le Vicomte.
Just before leaving he took Madame's hand in his and said very
earnestly, and sinking his voice to the merest whisper:
"To-night! Fear nothing! Be ready for anything! Remember that the League
of the Scarlet Pimpernel have never failed to succour, and that I hereby
pledge you mine honour that you and those you care for will be out of
Lyons this night."
He was gone, leaving us to marvel at his strange words. Mme. la Marquise
after that was just like a person in a dream. She hardly spoke to me,
and the only sound that passed her lips was a quaint little lullaby
which she sang to M. le Vicomte ere he dropped off to sleep.
The hours went by leaden-footed. At every sound on the stairs Madame
started like a frightened bird. That infamous Laporte usually paid his
visits at about eight o'clock in the evening, and after it became quite
dark, Madame sat at the tiny window, and I felt that she was counting
the minutes which still lay between her and the dreaded presence of that
awful man.
At a quarter before eight o'clock we heard the usual heavy footfall on
the stairs. Madame started up as if she had been struck. She ran to the
bed--almost like one demented, and wrapping the one poor blanket round
M. le Vicomte, she seized him in her arms. Outside we could hear
Laporte's raucous voice speaking to the guard. His usual query: "Is all
well?" was answered by the brief: "All well, citizen." Then he asked if
the English spy were within, and the sentinel replied: "No, citizen, he
went out at about five o'clock and has not come back since."
"Not come back since five o'clock?" said Laporte with a loud curse.
"Pardi! I trust that that fool Caudy has not allowed him to escape."
"I saw Caudy about an hour ago, citizen," said the man.
"Did he say anything about the Englishman then?"
It seemed to us, who were listening to this conversation with bated
breath, that the man hesitated a moment ere he replied; then he spoke
with obvious nervousness.
"As a matter of fact, citizen," he said, "Caudy thought then that the
Englishman was inside the house, whilst I was equally sure that I had
seen him go downstairs an hour before."
"A thousand devils!" cried Laporte with a savage oath, "if I find that
you, citizen sergeant, or Caudy have blundered there will be trouble for
you."
To the accompaniment of a great deal more swearing he suddenly kicked
open the door of our attic with his boot, and then came to a standstill
on the threshold with his hands in the pockets of his breeches and his
legs planted wide apart, face to face with Mme. la Marquise, who
confronted him now, herself like a veritable tigress who is defending
her young.
He gave a loud, mocking laugh.
"Ah, the aristos!" he cried, "waiting for that cursed Englishman, what?
to drag you and your brat out of the claws of the human tiger.... Not
so, my fine ci-devant Marquise. The brat is no longer sick--he is well
enough, anyhow, to breathe the air of the prisons of Lyons for a few
days pending a final rest in the arms of Mme. la Guillotine. Citizen
sergeant," he called over his shoulder, "escort these aristos to my
carriage downstairs. When the Englishman returns, tell him he will find
his friends under the tender care of Doctor Laporte. En avant, little
mother," he added, as he gripped Mme. la Marquise tightly by the arm,
"and you, old scarecrow," he concluded, speaking to me over his
shoulder, "follow the citizen sergeant, or----"
Mme. la Marquise made no resistance. As I told you, she had been, since
dusk, like a person in a dream; so what could I do but follow her noble
example? Indeed, I was too dazed to do otherwise.
We all went stumbling down the dark, rickety staircase, Laporte leading
the way with Mme. la Marquise, who had M. le Vicomte tightly clasped in
her arms. I followed with the sergeant, whose hand was on my shoulder; I
believe that two soldiers walked behind, but of that I cannot be sure.
At the bottom of the stairs through the open door of the house I caught
sight of the vague outline of a large barouche, the lanthorns of which
threw a feeble light upon the cruppers of two horses and of a couple of
men sitting on the box.
Mme. la Marquise stepped quietly into the carriage. Laporte followed
her, and I was bundled in in his wake by the rough hands of the
soldiery. Just before the order was given to start, Laporte put his head
out of the window and shouted to the sergeant:
"When you see Caudy tell him to report himself to me at once. I will be
back here in half an hour; keep strict guard as before until then,
citizen sergeant."
The next moment the coachman cracked his whip, Laporte called loudly,
"En avant!" and the heavy barouche went rattling along the ill-paved
streets.
Inside the carriage all was silence. I could hear Mme. la Marquise
softly whispering to M. le Vicomte, and I marvelled how wondrously
calm--nay, cheerful, she could be. Then suddenly I heard a sound which
of a truth did make my heart stop its beating. It was a quaint and
prolonged laugh which I once thought I would never hear again on this
earth. It came from the corner of the barouche next to where Mme. la
Marquise was so tenderly and gaily crooning to her child. And a kindly
voice said merrily:
"In half an hour we shall be outside Lyons. To-morrow we'll be across
the Swiss frontier. We've cheated that old tiger after all. What say
you, Mme. la Marquise?"
It was milor's voice, and he was as merry as a school-boy.
"I told you, old Jean-Pierre," he added, as he placed that firm hand
which I loved so well upon my knee, "I told you that those confounded
murderers would not get me this time."
And to think that I did not know him, as he stood less than a quarter of
an hour ago upon the threshold of our attic in the hideous guise of that
abominable Laporte. He had spent two days in collecting old clothes that
resembled those of that infamous wretch, and in taking possession of one
of the derelict rooms in the house in the Rue des Pipots. Then while we
were expecting every moment that Laporte would order our arrest, milor
assumed the personality of the monster, hoodwinked the sergeant on the
dark staircase, and by that wonderfully audacious coup saved Mme. la
Marquise, M. le Vicomte and my humble self from the guillotine.
Money, of which he had plenty, secured us immunity on the way, and we
were in safety over the Swiss frontier, leaving Laporte to eat out his
tigerish heart with baffled rage.