No word came from the Alcazar to summon Dominica to answer an
examination. Don Rodriguez, uneasily awaiting such a summons, brought
back word first that the Chevalier was to be held in ward pending the
arrival of word from France; second, that his Majesty had spoken no
word concerning Doña Dominica; and thirdly, that Don Miguel de Tobar
had started for Madrid sooner than had been expected, and was likely to
arrive within the next few days.
Doña Beatrice was unwillingly roused to action. Sighing over it, she
said that it was all very fatiguing, and not a little tiresome, but if
suspicion did not rest on Doña Dominica there was no reason why they
should not leave Madrid upon Saturday.
Dominica heard this with dismay. God knows what she hoped for by
remaining in the capital; she hardly knew herself, but to journey
north so many leagues out of sight or sound of Madrid filled her with
despair. To stay could do Beauvallet no good. True enough, but how
could one go, knowing him to be in such danger?
She said never a word, but bowed her head slightly and tried to look
indifferent. She was far from that ideal state. While she was borne off
north God alone knew what might be done to Beauvallet. She had heard
that those who fell into the clutch of the Inquisition were sometimes
never heard of again. She fell to trembling and to silent prayer. Her
own fate seemed no longer to be a matter of moment. Listlessly she
observed a certain quiet satisfaction in her cousin's demeanour which
she supposed could betoken no good, but it seemed no longer to signify.
If Beauvallet died they might do with her as they would.
Don Diego left Madrid a day ahead of his mother and cousin. Dominica
heard of his plans without change of countenance, but his mother
drawled: "You do not ride with us?"
He answered very easily that he would go before to have all in
readiness against their coming to Vasconosa. He could not but think
that the Carvalho guards would be protection enough for their equipage.
Doña Beatrice looked at him with narrowed eyes, seemed to consider him,
but said only: "You are not very gallant, my son."
His departure was watched by one of whom he knew nothing. Joshua,
anxious to get speech with Dominica, haunted the vicinity of the Casa
Carvalho, and saw Don Diego set forward that Friday with his valet and
two lackeys with led sumpters. Joshua's sharp nose smelled mischief. He
lounged against the sun-baked wall and picked his teeth, but his ears
were on the prick and his eyes sharp beneath the slouching brim of his
hat. A chance word let fall by one of the lackeys strapping a pack to
the sumpter disclosed their destination. There was little need of it;
Joshua had been in small doubt. He watched Don Diego mount and gather
up the reins; heard him admonish the lackeys to press forward at speed;
and saw him ride off. Joshua drew his own conclusions.
"Ay, go swiftly, villain!" he apostrophised Don Diego. "Waste no time,
for you will have Mad Nick behind you, never doubt it! Cullion and
coystrill! Oh, an eater of broken meats, a very pungent rascal! It
would do one's heart good to slit the villain's nose. I shall suggest
it to my master in due course." He heaved a sigh. "Master, as I see it,
you would do well to break out of ward swiftly. Here's roguery afoot.
If I can but get speech with my lady, and know what they will be about!
A plague on all women!"
An hour of patient loitering rewarded him. Dominica at last appeared,
accompanied by her maid, and bound, as Joshua had hoped she might be,
to hear Mass at a neighbouring Church. She cast a passing look at him
where he lounged, but it was unrecognising. As well it might be, for
there was little trace of swaggering Joshua in the sober, clean-shaved
personage she saw. He wore a buffin gown as might some needy clerk;
gone were the ambitious mustachios, gone the beard that Sir Nicholas
was wont to call his _pique de vent_, gone, too, the strutting
carriage. A meek individual followed my lady at a discreet distance to
Church.
She chose an unoccupied bench at the back of the Church. Joshua waited
until old Carmelita was bowed over her rosary, devout and unseeing,
then slid on to the bench and edged gradually closer to my lady.
Her eyes were open, looking straight before her. She became aware
of Joshua and turned her head. She was inclined to be angry at his
encroachment: that he saw by the spark in her eyes. He looked fully at
her, laid a finger to his lips and beckoned her surreptitiously nearer.
She did not know him; she stiffened; her look should have abashed
him. He was at a loss; he dared not move nearer to her lest the maid
should be roused from her devotions, or the lady withdraw. He looked
imploringly, and she turned her shoulder. A hasty glance round him
showed him only a few people busy at their prayers. He bent his head
and whispered: "Lady, _Reck Not_!"
His quick eyes peeped up at her; she had heard; she was looking keenly
at him now. Again he made that little beckoning movement. She let fall
her missal, bent to pick it up, and in the doing of it shifted her
position till she was close beside him.
He pretended to mumble prayers, telling over the beads of a rosary.
"Lady, you do not know me. I am Joshua Dimmock. My beard is off. What
of that? Caution! Caution!"
She stole a glance at him, met the upward flash of his shrewd grey
eyes. Recognition sprang into her own. She bent her head and put her
clasped hands up to hide her face. "You! Oh, what do you know?"
"He is in ward. Courage, señorita! I am here to discover what plans are
laid for you. Does Tuesday hold good yet?"
"Saturday," she whispered back. "To-morrow. He sent you? You have
contrived to get speech with him?"
"Nay. Be of good heart, lady, and keep faith. He will break free yet."
She gave a long sigh. "I have led him to his death."
Privately Joshua was in complete agreement with her. "It was
noticeable," he said later, "that she seemed to have little idea of
having led me thitherwards. But I let that pass."
For all his secret convictions, vicarious dignity would not permit him
to let the lady think that she had had any hand in this escapade. His
answering whisper contained some austerity. "I have yet to learn,
señorita, that my master is led by aught save his own inclination. Let
it go. I am avised of your movements; it but remains for me to get
speech with Sir Nicholas."
Her eyes flickered to his face. "Is it so easy? Can you do it?"
"It will not be easy," said Joshua severely, "but certainly I shall do
it. Be of good cheer; trust me, and trust my master. No more of this.
Dangerous dealing!" He edged away along the bench, and she was left to
her seeming prayers.
She was oddly comforted by this talk with Joshua. He spoke with an
assurance he was far from feeling, but she was not to know that. She
might doubt still, but she now had hope, for if Joshua, who knew
Beauvallet so well, could be sanguine, she too, might expect a happy
issue.
He was not perhaps so sanguine as he chose to appear, but for the
timorous man he declared himself to be, he was very cool. A squalid
tavern in the meaner part of the city now housed him; if he could but
get a sight of his master he would have only one regret, and this the
loss of his brave mustachios.
"Alack!" he told himself mournfully. "I who was, I believe, a
personable man, now look like some starveling scrivener." He spat
into the kennel. "So much for that. It boots not to bewail my lost
mustachios; they are very decently interred. The loss of a fair beard
I can better support: one may call it a fortune of war. But the
mustachios are another and more serious affair. Something of the cock
of Beauvallet's own, I apprehend. I wore them with a good grace. A
plague on all shaven lips! But this is to talk more and no more. I
do not repine." He walked on towards his lodging. "Now what, I must
ask myself? Do you come out of that stronghold, master? Nay, we must
admit it to be an impossibility." He threw out his chest and strutted
a little. "Ha! A word we do not know. We maybe have some few wiles
left that they may still blear the eyes of these Spanish dawcocks."
He abated his pace and abandoned the swagger. "Yet I own myself to be
very pigeon-livered in this matter. You may say I had his word he would
escape if he were taken. Maybe we brag a little--a very little." He
shook his head slightly. "Master, if I knew of a way--but I make no
doubt a way will present itself to me. I must lie close, as I am bid,
and keep good watch. To do else might be to o'erset deep laid schemes.
Courage, Joshua!"
The question of Dominica's departure next occupied his busy mind. He
scented mischief there, bristled at it like a dog, and shook his fist
at an imaginary Don Diego. "Mark me well, we will carbonado you finely
yet, Master Hemp-Seed! Sir Nicholas, you would do well to let your
guards taste of your mettle at once, for I mislike the complexion of
this whole matter. Let us consider. How long might a coach take to
reach Vasconosa? The roads are bad. True, but we have had no rain, and
there will be no mud for the coach to founder in. They are to change
horses, as I learn, at every stage. Ten days, maybe, swift going. For
a man riding hard, as we might ride? Ah, that is another and very
different affair." His pace quickened. "There is the question of
horses. We must go privily to work and discover at what stages one can
buy nags upon the road. The plague is on it, I have had to abandon Sir
Nicholas' fine mare. Now, if Sir Nicholas were to appear of a sudden,
as I believe he may do? What will be his cry? Horses, Joshua! True. And
how shall we answer? Certain, it is meet that I lay out some money on a
couple of good nags to be in readiness. Ah, what it is to have a head!
Master, if I but knew where you lie, and how they use you!"
He would perhaps have been comforted had he known that Sir Nicholas lay
in a very fair apartment, and was most courteously used. He might have
all he wanted for the mere asking.
Don Cristobal came to visit him each day, and was at pains to be
polite. It was from him that Sir Nicholas learned of the messenger sent
off to France to inquire more particularly into his identity. When he
heard that he gave an irrepressible laugh. Certain, the net was closing
in. Don Cristobal understood the laugh to imply no more than a scornful
amusement, and did not wonder at it. His attitude throughout was of
painstaking civility. The difficulties of his position were felt keenly
by him, and he was anxious that--in the event of the Chevalier coming
off triumphant--his prisoner would have no cause to complain of his
treatment in ward.
He had many talks with the Chevalier, and the more he saw of him the
more convinced he became that Perinat had made some ridiculous mistake.
Don Cristobal could not conceive that a man who knew himself to be
in such danger could wear so care-free a countenance, or could crack
light-hearted jests at every turn. Some signs of unease there must
surely have been had the man been El Beauvallet indeed. He ventured
upon one occasion to hope that all would go well for the Chevalier, and
hinted at the Inquisition, watching Beauvallet keenly as he spoke.
He got nothing by that. The black brows flew up in a kind of artless
surprise; the smile only grew the more amused. "_Sangdieu!_" said
Beauvallet in mock alarm. "I hope so, too!"
It was very evident that he had no doubts about it. Don Cristobal felt
that he had passed another test satisfactorily.
The Chevalier soon requested that he might be allowed some exercise.
Don Cristobal had to admit this to be a reasonable desire, and made
arrangements to grant it. Beauvallet was permitted the indulgence of
walking in the courtyard for an hour each day, closely attended by the
two guards who waited on him.
There was more to this request than a mere desire for exercise.
Sir Nicholas, hurried to the barracks at night, had as yet had no
opportunity to take in his surroundings. To walk in the court would
give him a chance to get a plan of the building in his mind, which was
necessary to a man whose brain was busy all the time with schemes for
escape.
He knew already, from a glance out of his chamber window, that his
prison was upon the first floor. His window overlooked a quiet street
that was flanked on the opposite side by a blank wall. He wasted very
little time here. Even if the bars across the window had been weak
enough to pull out, the room was too high above the ground for a man to
attempt the drop. Escape did not lie that way.
When his guards came to escort him out to the court he found that his
room gave on to a stone corridor, or cloister, with tall open arches
overlooking a paved courtyard. The barracks seemed to enclose this
court in a square, and as far as Beauvallet could see the corridor ran
right round, with doors opening off it upon the inner side. A quick
glance up and down as soon as he came out of his room discovered a
spiral stairway to the left, set in the width of the wall where the
corridor turned at right-angles to run along the south side of the
court.
The guards directed Beauvallet away from this stair, and went with him
down the long corridor to the further corner, and round on to the north
side. Sir Nicholas judged the length of the corridor to be as near
ninety or a hundred feet as made no odds. On the north side was a large
stairway, evidently the principle stair in the building, coming up from
the arched gateway to the soldiers' quarters.
They went down it, and Sir Nicholas found himself in the open
courtyard, with the sun beating down upon him. To the north an arch led
to the street. There were sentries on guard there. To one side of this
arch was the stairway down which he had come; to the other was a closed
door.
They paced slowly round the court. The ground floor owned just such
another corridor as was found on the floor above. There was another
storey, Sir Nicholas ascertained, but the corridor was enclosed here,
and had windows set, perhaps, eight feet apart all round the square,
each with its little semi-circular balcony, so typical of the Spanish
house. Above was the flat roof and the chimney-stacks.
Sir Nicholas continued his promenade between the two guards, and
chatted amiably with them, as his custom was. They had eyed him in
round-eyed wonder at first, and had been suspicious of him, seeing
under his gay exterior a very dreadful pirate, but those feelings had
not lasted long. It was the opinion of the guards that the pleasant
gentleman was being wrongfully imprisoned. He never gave the least sign
of a wish to escape, was merry in his talk, and, in their eyes, was too
much the gentleman to be an English sea-robber. They were quite willing
to talk to him, and saw no harm in his questions. He displayed a casual
interest in the Guards of Castile, and was surprised to hear how many
of them were gathered in this place. However, it was no wonder, he
supposed, and looked round him appreciatively. "I dare swear you might
house an hundred more in a place this size."
"Why, señor, if it comes to the pinch, more than that," one of the
soldiers told him, "There are rooms up aloft"--he nodded towards the
second storey--"that stand as bare as my hand."
The other man was inclined to cavil at this. "Not many more," he said.
"There are the stables, and there have to be rooms set aside for
stores. The place is not so big as would seem, señor. Why, the armoury
alone, over yonder, takes up a great space, and no men housed there,
and you have the guard-room as well upon this level."
"But you might surely house an hundred upon one side of the building
alone," objected Sir Nicholas. "Four sides--nay, I forget: the gateway
takes away from one side. Three sides, then, all fit to house an
hundred men."
"Nay, nay, there are the Governor's quarters to consider," said the
guard.
"Ah, of course!" said Sir Nicholas blandly. "I had forgot that he lived
here." He looked rueful. "I give him joy of it. For my part, I find it
a dreary place."
"Well, señor, you are unfortunate," he was told. "The Governor does
well enough, with a very pretty garden to walk in and a score of fine
rooms, I warrant you."
Sir Nicholas began to talk of something else. The disposition of the
Governor's quarters and the whereabouts of his garden was all he
wanted to know now, and he would go his own way to work about that. He
complained of the scorching sun, and brought his walk to an end. When
Don Cristobal came to visit him later in the day, and inquired whether
he had taken his exercise, Sir Nicholas thanked him, but believed that
for the future he must confine his walks to the corridor.
"I find it rather too sunny, señor. Heyday! I would M. de Lauvinière's
messenger might bestir himself a little." He observed Don Cristobal's
troubled look, and smiled. "Nay, do not look so worried, señor. I must
be content with the corridor, and this grim incarceration cannot last
for many weeks."
"Why, Chevalier, I should be loth--certainly the sun beats down very
hotly. I do not think there could be any objection to your walking in
my garden for a space every day. I will arrange for it."
"But this is too kind, señor! Indeed, I shall take no hurt in the
corridor. I should not like to trespass into your garden," Beauvallet
said.
"No trespass, señor. Consider it agreed upon. I am held responsible for
your well-being, and I am assured his Majesty is anxious to make this
unfortunate time as pleasant for you as maybe. Is there aught else I
may do for you?"
Beauvallet seemed to consider. He drew some coins from his pocket, and
looked at them with a grimace. "Lay that fellow of mine by the heels,
señor, and I shall be much your debtor. But I believe I have enough
to buy me some few things. Of your kindness, señor, some book to help
while away the time. I do not know whether I am permitted to write to
my friends?"
Don Cristobal hesitated, "With the greatest reluctance, señor, I should
feel myself bound to glance at any messages you may wish to send out of
this place."
"Oh, you may read all my papers with my very goodwill," Sir Nicholas
told him.
"I will send you some ink, then, and paper," Don Cristobal promised,
and withdrew.
Upon the following morning Beauvallet was escorted to the Governor's
quarters, by the stairway he had gone down the day before, and through
the door he had noticed on the opposite side of the arched gateway.
This led into a large hall, furnished very richly with fine hangings
and chairs of Italian _intarsia_ work. Across the hall a door gave on
to a walled garden, shaded by trees, and through this they went.
Beyond the wall Sir Nicholas judged that there was a street as on his
opposite side of the building. The wall was high, but rough upon the
inner side, with one or two espaliers trained up it. If a man had the
help of a rope he might make shift to scale that wall; at a pinch he
might make the attempt without assistance, but with indifferent hope of
success. There seemed to be no other way into the garden than through
this one door.
Sir Nicholas studied the outside of the building closely. Here were
no barred windows, and the side of the house was grown over with a
thick wisteria. A man penetrating into one of the upper rooms on this
side of the building might climb down the wall by the aid of that
wistaria--if it held. So much Sir Nicholas decided; it was little
enough. He went back presently to his prison and sat down by the window
to write an innocent letter to his Andalusian acquaintance.
It might have been noticed that the Chevalier nearly always sat by the
window, and very often stood looking out on to the street. His guards
made nothing of that. There was little enough to see in the street,
but the poor gentleman had nothing else to interest him, to be sure,
until the Governor sent him a selection of books to read. Even then a
gentleman cannot be reading all the day.
Sir Nicholas, watching the street below, did not at first recognize his
swaggering servant in the clean-shaven, demure individual who strolled
slowly along on the opposite side of the road. But his attention was
held by the apparently idle glances this clerk-like person cast up at
the barracks as he came, and he knitted his brows a little.
Joshua was opposite his window now, and again looked up. The puzzled
frown vanished from Beauvallet's face; he lifted his hand, and Joshua
saw him.
Joshua cast a glance behind him. There was no one in sight. He stood
still, showing a joyful countenance. Sir Nicholas passed a hand over
his beard, caressed his mustachio tips, and affected an intense grief.
But his shoulders shook.
"Ho!" said Joshua softly. "This is pretty treatment, God wot! Nay,
then, master, have done! Is this the time to make merry? It sorteth
to no good at all. God be thanked you are safe, and in spirits, as
it would seem! What, will you be fleering still?" He shook his head
severely. "I may say you are incorrigible. Now I must tell you some
few things. And how?" He saw a man turn down the corner of the street,
and bent as though to take a stone from his shoe. After that he walked
on until the man had rounded the corner, and then came swiftly back.
It would not do to shout to Sir Nicholas, that was certain. He put his
head on one side and debated. The street was still empty when he came
opposite to Beauvallet's window again, and he began to indulge in a
piece of pantomime for his master's benefit. Don Diego was portrayed by
a mincing step, a sniffing at an imaginary flower, and a flourishing
bow. Sir Nicholas grinned and nodded. Joshua made believe then to throw
himself upon a horse, and to ride off at full speed.
The play ended he looked up inquiringly. Sir Nicholas was frowning.
He drew a large V in the air, and cocked up an eyebrow. Joshua nodded
vigorously, and made beckoning signs as though to bid his master make
haste.
That Sir Nicholas understood more or less what he meant to convey was
easy to see. He signed to Joshua to go, and himself fell to pacing the
floor of his room.
If Dominica had gone already to Vasconosa, as Joshua's play would seem
to indicate, with Don Diego hard on her heels, it looked as though
there was mischief brewing. Sir Nicholas had been content to lie in his
prison till Tuesday, or even later, for there was nothing to be gained
by breaking free while Dominica still lay at Madrid. On the contrary,
there was all to be lost. Once out of prison he must lose no time in
getting out of Spain; there would be no time then for waiting upon his
lady's movements. But this new development changed the complexion of
the affair. Sir Nicholas sat down on the edge of his bed and began
thoughtfully to finger his beard. "'Ware Beauvallet, if you see him at
that trick!" would have said Joshua Dimmock. But the Guards of Castile
were not so familiar with Sir Nicholas Beauvallet's ways.
His brain began to shape plans, twisting and scheming. If he failed in
his attempt he must stand self-convicted as El Beauvallet. He knew what
to expect then. He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his pomander to
his nose.
Sniffing at it he evolved his plan. It was sufficiently desperate
to appeal to that lively sense of humour in him. "Come, Nick!" he
apostrophised himself. "Let us take _Reck Not_ for our watchword yet
once again. It has not been known to fail us yet. But I am sorry for
that sentry."
By which it may be seen that Sir Nicholas counted the sentry outside
his door a dead man already.
He moved to the table, and wrote three lines to Joshua. They were quite
simple.
"_Be ready to-morrow evening with a rope outside the wall on the
opposite side of the building to this. When you hear my whistle, cast
it across and hold tightly._"
This he twisted into a screw and put away in his bosom. Upon the
following morning Joshua walked down the street again. The screw of
paper went fluttering down from Beauvallet's window, and was swiftly
pounced on.
Joshua went back to his tavern strutting light-heartedly.