"The hour when M. Lucas sets out on his secret mission."
"Hush!" he cried. "Hush! Don't say names aloud--his or the other's."
"Well," I said crossly, "you have kept me waiting already more time than
I care to lose. How much longer before you will tell me what I came to
know?"
He looked at me sharply for another brief instant before his eyes slunk
away from mine.
"You should have a password."
"They gave me none. They told me to say I came from the shuttered house
in the Rue Coupejarrets, and that would be enough."
"How came you into this business?"
"By a back window."
He gave me another suspicious glance, but making nothing by it, he
rejoined:
"Eh bien, I trust you. I will tell you."
He clutched my arm and drew me to the back of the arch, where the
afternoon shadows were already gathered.
"What have you for me?" he demanded.
"Nothing. What should I have?"
"No gold?"
"No."
"He promised me ten pistoles to-day. He did not give them to you?"
"I tell you, no."
"You are a thief! You have them!"
He stepped forward menacingly; so did I. He then fell back as abruptly.
"Nay, it was a jest; I know you are honest. But he promised me ten
pistoles."
"He did not give them to me," I said. "Perhaps he was not so convinced
of my honesty. He will doubtless pay you afterward."
"Afterward!" he retorted in a high key. "By our Lady, he shall pay me
afterward! The gutters will run gold then, will they? Pardieu! I will
see that a good stream flows my way. But one cannot play to-day with
to-morrow's coin. He said I should have ten pistoles when I let him know
the hour."
"I cannot mend that. It lies between you and him. I have not seen or
heard of any money."
Martin edged up close to the door of retreat and waxed defiant.
"Then all I have to say is, he may go whistle for his news."
Now, had I but thought of it, here was an easy road out of a bad
business. If Martin would not tell the hour of rendezvous, Lucas was
saved, Monsieur's interests not endangered, yet at the same time I was
not forsworn. But touch pitch and be defiled. You cannot go hand and
glove with villains and remain an honest man. I returned directly:
"As you choose. But M. Gervais carries a long sword."
He started at that and made no instant reply, seeming to be balancing
considerations. Then he gave his decision.
"I will tell you. But your M. Gervais is wrong if he thinks I can be
slighted and robbed of my dues. I know enough to make trouble for him,
and I know where to take my knowledge. He will not find it easy to shut
my mouth afterward, except with good broad gold pieces."
"Enfin, are you telling me the hour?" I said impatiently. I was ill at
ease; my only wish was to get the errand done and be gone.
He laid a hand on my shoulder and made me bend to him, and even then
spoke so low I could scarce catch the words.
"They have fixed positively on to-night. They will leave by this door
and take the route I described last night to M. Gervais. They will start
as soon as the streets are quiet, sometime between ten and eleven. They
must allow an hour to reach the gate, and the man goes off at twelve. In
all likelihood they will not set out before a quarter of eleven; M. le
Duc does not care to be recognized."
So they planned to kill Lucas at Monsieur's side? Yeux-gris had not
dared to tell me that. But he had looked me straight in the face and
sworn on the cross no harm was meant to M. le Duc. Natheless, the thing
looked ugly. My heart leaped up at the next words:
"Also Vigo will go."
"Vigo!"
"Not so loud! You will have the guard on us! Yes, he is to go. At first
Monsieur did not tell even him, he desired to keep this visit to the
king so secret. But this morning he took Vigo into his confidence, and
nothing would serve the man but to go. He watches over Monsieur like a
hen over a chick."
"Then it will be three to three," I said. I thought of Gervais,
Yeux-gris, and Pontou, for of course I would take no part in it.
"Three to two; Lucas will not fight."
Lucas must be a poltroon, indeed!
"But Vigo and Monsieur--" I began.
"Aye, they are quick enough with their swords. Your side must be
quicker, that's all. If you are sudden enough you can easily kill the
duke before he can draw."
Talk of words like thunderbolts! All the thunder of heaven could not
have whelmed me like those words. Yeux-gris and his oaths! It _was_ the
duke, after all!
I could not speak. I looked I know not how. But it was dusky in the
arch.
"It sounds simple," he went on. "But, three of you as you are, you will
have trouble with Vigo. That is all. I have told you all. I must get
back before I am missed. Good luck to the enterprise."
Still I stood like a block of wood.
"Tell M. Gervais to remember me," he said, and opening the door, passed
in. I heard him lock and bolt it after him, and his footsteps hurrying
down the passageway.
Then I came to myself and sprang to the door and beat upon it furiously.
But if he heard he was afraid to respond. After a futile moment that
seemed an hour I rushed out of the arch and around to the great gate.
The grilles were closed as before, but the sentry's face, luckily, was
strange to me.
"Open! open!" I shouted, breathless. "I must see M. le Duc!"
"Who are you?" he demanded, staring.
"My name is Broux. I have news for M. le Duc. Let me in. It is a matter
of life and death."
"Why, I suppose, then, I must let you in," that good fellow answered,
drawing back the bolts. "But you must wait here till--"
The gate was open. I took base advantage of him by sliding under his arm
and shooting across the court up the steps to the house. The door stood
open, and a couple of lackeys lounged on a bench in the hall.
"M. le Duc!" I cried. "I must see him."
They jumped up, the picture of bewilderment.
"Who are you? How came you here?" cried the quicker-tongued of the two.
"The sentry opened for me. Where am I to find M. le Duc? I must see him!
I have news!"
"M. le Duc sees no one to-day," the second lackey announced pompously.
"But I must see him, I tell you," I repeated. I had completely lost what
little head I ever had; it seemed to me that if I could not see M. le
Duc on the instant I should find him weltering in his gore. "I must see
him," I cried, parrot-like. "It is a matter of life and death."
"From whom do you come?"
"That's my affair. Enough that I come with news of the highest moment.
You will be sorry if I you do not get me quickly to M. le Duc."
They looked at each other, somewhat impressed.
"I will go for M. Constant," said the one who had spoken first.
Constant was Master of the Household; M. le Duc had inherited him with
the estate and kept him in his place for old time's sake. He was old,
fussy, and self-important, and withal no friend to me.
"I had rather you fetched Vigo," I said.
"Oh, Vigo will not come. He is with Monsieur. If I bring M. Constant, it
is the best I can do for you."
I had recovered myself sufficiently by this time to remember the nature
of lackeys, and gave the messenger the last silver piece I had in the
world. He regarded it contemptuously, but pocketed it and departed in
leisurely fashion up the stairs.
The other was not too grand to cross-examine me.
"What sort of news have you? Do you come from the king?" he asked in a
lowered voice.
"No."
"From M. de Valère?"
"No."
"Then who the devil are you?"
"Félix Broux of St. Quentin."
"Ah, St. Quentin," he said, as if he found that rather tame. "You bring
news from there?"
"No, I do not. Think you I shall tell you? This news is for Monsieur."
"It won't reach Monsieur unless you learn politeness toward the
gentlemen of his household," he retorted.
We were getting into a lively quarrel when Constant appeared on the
stairway--Constant and the lackey who had fetched him, and two more
lackeys, and a page, all of whom had somehow scented that something was
in the wind. They came flocking about us as I said:
"Ah, M. Constant! You know me, Félix Broux of St. Quentin. I must see M.
le Duc."
Constant's face of surprise at me changed to one of malice. Down at St.
Quentin he had suffered much from us pages, as a slow, peevish old
dotard must. I had played many a prank on him, but I had not thought he
would revenge himself at such time as this. He looked at me with a
spiteful grin, and said to the men:
"He lies. I do not know him. I never saw him."
"Never saw me, Félix Broux!" I cried, completely taken aback.
"No," maintained Constant. "You are an impostor."
"Impostor! Nonsense!" I cried out. "Constant, you know me as well as you
know yourself. I say I must see the duke; his life is in danger!"
Constant was paying off old scores with interest.
"An impostor," he yelled shrilly, "or else a madman--or an assassin."
"That is the truth," said some one, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder.
I turned; two men of the guard had come up, my friend of just now and my
foe of the morning. It was the latter who held me and said:
"This is the very rascal who sprang on Monsieur's coach-step in the
morning. M. Lucas threw him off, else he might have stabbed Monsieur. We
were fools enough to let him go free. But this time he shall not get off
so easy."
"I am innocent of all thought of harm," I cried. "I am M. le Duc's loyal
servant. I meant no harm this morning, and I mean none now. I am here to
save Monsieur's life."
"He is here to kill Monsieur; he is an assassin!" screamed Constant.
"Flog him, men; he will own the truth then!"
"I am no assassin!" I shouted, struggling in their grasp. "Let me go,
villains, let me go! I tell you, Monsieur's life is at stake--Monsieur's
very life, I tell you!"
They paid me no heed. Not one of them--save hat lying knave
Constant--knew me as other than the shabby fellow who had acted
suspiciously in the morning. They were dragging me to the door in spite
of my shouts and struggles, when suddenly a ringing voice spoke from
above:
"What is this rumpus? Who talks of Monsieur's life?"
The guards halted dead, and I cried out joyfully:
"Vigo!"
"Yes, I am Vigo," the big man answered, striding down the stairs. "Who
are you?"
I wanted to shout, "Félix Broux, Monsieur's page," but a sort of
nightmare dread came over me lest Vigo, too, should disclaim me, and my
voice stuck in my throat.
"Whoever you are, you will be taught not to make a racket in M. le Duc's
hall. By the saints! it's the boy Félix."
At the friendliness in his voice the guards dropped their hands from me.
"M. Vigo," I said, "I have news for Monsieur of the gravest moment. I am
come on a matter of life and death. And I am stopped in the hall by
lackeys."
He looked at me sternly.
"This is not one of your fooleries, Félix?"
"No, M. Vigo."
"Come with me."