THE QUESTION
TWO torches blazing from brackets in the wall at the farther end threw
fantastic shadows along the floor and up against the ceiling. For an
instant, as I looked at them, my eyes were dazzled, and then I saw
that on a platform below the lights sat Roquefort and by his side
d’Aurilly. A dozen men-at-arms stood guard, with something sinister and
threatening in their very immobility, and in the corner to one side I
caught a glimpse of an array of great, shapeless things, whose uses I
did not permit my thoughts to dwell upon.
“This way, sirrah!” called Roquefort, and then sat silent until I stood
before him, the torchlight full upon my face. It was then I understood
why the torches were so placed--the face of the judge in shadow--the
face of the prisoner in full light. How many had stood so and felt
those eyes probing deep into their souls! For even from the shadow I
could catch the menacing gleam of those serpent’s eyes.
“Well, M. de Marsan,” he began at last, “it seems that Cadillac could
not save you after all, despite your lying.”
“Not yet, Monsieur,” I answered, still with some show of confidence.
“Not yet!” he cried. “Body of God! Think you there is yet a chance?
Three shots, last night, drove him headlong back into the plain. Why,
Monsieur, he would be too late were he thundering at the gate this
instant!”
I saw d’Aurilly leering down at me, all his malicious joy in his
hawk-face, and the sight fired my blood.
“At least,” I said, “I shall die an honest man, and neither a spy, a
traitor, nor an abductor of women!”
D’Aurilly started from his seat with an oath, and in an instant I
should have had my fingers at his throat, but that Roquefort held him
back.
“No, no,” he laughed. “Restrain yourself, d’Aurilly. That were too
swift a way. One blow of a sword and it is over--but the rack is
different. I wonder at you, my friend!”
“True!” muttered d’Aurilly, and sank back into his seat with livid
face.
“I see you have not yet forgotten that blow of my hand across your
mouth, Monsieur,” I sneered, resolved to provoke him to the uttermost.
Pray Heaven I might yet get my hands on this devil and have a moment in
which to settle my account with him! Then almost could I die content.
His hands were trembling on the arms of his chair, but he glared at me
without replying.
“Ho, what is this tale, d’Aurilly?” questioned Roquefort. “Do you tell
me that this rascal struck you in the face and lives to boast of it? I
thought you a man of spirit!”
“He lies!” cried d’Aurilly. “He lies! It was nothing.”
I looked at him, smiling. Roquefort, I think, could guess where the
truth lay, but he passed it by.
“Come, M. de Marsan,” he said more sternly, “we are wasting time, and I
have much to do this day. You will remember the reward I promised you
should you betray me at Cadillac,” and he made a little gesture towards
the horrors in the corner. “Well, the reward is ready; but since then
I have learned certain things which may perhaps alter matters. In the
first place, I learned from the Vicomte d’Aurilly that you carried to
your master at Montauban a message which told of my little expedition
against Cadillac. This message, it seems, was brought to you at Marsan
by some member of my household. In the second place, I learned from
Drouet, as you know, that some one in the night had come to your aid,
had cut the ropes which bound you to him, and that you were within an
ace of escaping.”
He paused for a moment. I could guess what was coming.
“D’Aurilly has been good enough to represent me in Cadillac’s
household, not caring, at first, to trust me to secure for him that
black-eyed Valérie, but preferring to rely on his own charms. Well, it
appears his charms had no great effect, so, in the end, he was glad to
come to me for aid,” and Roquefort looked at his companion with just a
spark of malice in his eyes. “It was not until he had managed to join
my troop in that brush at Cadillac that I learned the truth--that we
have a spy and traitor amongst us. I had suspected it before, when my
plans had come to naught, but proof was always lacking. Well, Monsieur,
I desire the name of that traitor.”
On that point, at least, I could answer fully.
“M. le Duc,” I said, “I do not know his name. I do not even know his
appearance. I know only that one night a man rode into Marsan carrying
a message which he gave to my father, who, in turn, entrusted it to
me. I saw the man but a moment; it was night, and his face was so well
concealed that I caught but a glimpse of it.”
Roquefort was glaring down at me, his mouth working.
“Doubtless the person who cut your bonds the other night was also
invisible!” he cried. “Or did you, by any chance, see his face, M. de
Marsan?”
My blood leaped back into my heart. I looked into his eyes
horrified--seeing myself at the edge of a precipice.
“Well, Monsieur,” said Roquefort after a moment, “I await an answer.
Come, your tongue is not so ready.”
The sweat broke out across my forehead as I stood there looking at him.
I thought bitterly of the hopes that had sat on my saddle-bow as I rode
out from Montauban--it seemed hard that they should end like this. But
if Fate willed it--what then? Certainly, I had done my best.
“M. le Duc,” I answered, with what calmness I could, “I have nothing
more to say.”
His face turned purple and his eyes became two sparks of fire,
miniaturing the torches which blazed behind him, yet his voice was calm.
“Remember my warning, Monsieur,” he said. “I am not a man who breaks
his word. Either you must be stretched yonder in a moment--or this spy.
I swear it! I have suffered too much from him to pass it by. There is
no other way--even your Gascon wits cannot devise one.”
I looked from him to d’Aurilly and back again. There was no mercy in
either countenance--only d’Aurilly exulted openly. And the thought came
to me that I might yet save Mademoiselle from the fate that threatened
her and win for myself an easy death. There was no time to hesitate.
Perhaps he saw me gather for the spring or read my thought in my eyes,
for he gave a little cry and started from his chair even as my foot was
on the first step of the platform. But I was on him before he could
get his poniard out--my fingers clutched at his throat with all the
frenzied eagerness of hate--and we crashed backward over the chair
together.
I heard a confused shouting, a rush of many feet, but I saw only the
working face before me, with its staring eyes, its gaping mouth, with
the swollen, quivering tongue within. God! what a lust of blood was on
me as I gripped his throat and crushed it! I knew he was fumbling for
his dagger--I knew that in an instant a sword-thrust from behind would
end it--yet it seemed ages before they were upon me.
“God’s blood! Pull him up!” yelled Roquefort, and they jerked me to my
feet; but d’Aurilly came with me too, for my fingers were set as death
itself would set them.
I felt the others working at them, but my teeth were set--this man was
mine! They should not take him from me! But Roquefort himself strode up
at last, and ran a dagger-point under my fingers, prying them back and
cutting them cruelly. Only I did not then feel the hurt--my whole soul
was in the gaze I bent upon d’Aurilly as he lay huddled there before
me--if only he were dead! if only he were dead! Then might I go in
peace to my own death!
“Bring Briquet!” called Roquefort, “and quick about it.”
In a moment a figure entered from the dark corner.
“Here is work for you,” said Roquefort, and pointed to the man on the
floor.
The surgeon bent over him for a moment, felt his wrist, and looked into
his eyes. Then he stood up again.
“There is work for the grave-digger, not for me, M. le Duc,” he said.
“You twisted the necklet a shade too tightly.”
“Necklet!” repeated Roquefort, strangled by rage. “Body of God! It was
no necklet--’twas yonder scoundrel’s fingers!”
Briquet turned and looked at me with a little air of curiosity.
“They must be strong ones,” he observed, simply.
But Roquefort’s rage had quite mastered him.
“We shall see!” he yelled. “We shall test every muscle of him! Remain
here, Briquet--I want the end deferred as long as it may be! To the
rack with him!”
I strained to hurl from me the scoundrels who held me to right and
left, but they were doubtless accustomed to the work, for they threw me
by some trick of wrestling, and, seizing me by arm, leg, thigh, and
body, bore me into the shadows of the farther corner.
If ever man fought to save himself, I fought then, but I had no
chance--I saw it in a moment. First one arm, then the other, was
strapped down above my head, and in an instant I felt the straps drawn
tight about my ankles. I strained at them till I thought my heart would
burst, but they held quite firm. Then, with white fear at my throat, I
lay still and waited. I could do no more!
They brought the torches and stuck them into brackets in the wall above
me, where they would illumine every line of my face. Roquefort took
his place at the foot, whence he could look down into my eyes. Briquet
stationed himself beside me and looked at me as one interested in a
new experiment. Plainly his heart had been hardened by a hundred such
spectacles. And yet, as I stared up at him, I fancied I saw in his eyes
a look of encouragement Where had I seen that face before? Somewhere,
surely!
“Is all ready?” asked Roquefort.
The men grunted an assent.
He looked at me again, and read something in my eyes I would not have
had him see there.
“I think we shall yet learn the name of the spy,” he sneered. “I think
we shall soon have this scoundrel’s soul bare before us! Turn the
wheel, men!”