CHAPTER XVIII
A RIDE THROUGH THE NIGHT
The streets were still filled with people, kept abroad apparently by rumors of the Spanish plot, and I was compelled to draw rein and go at a slower gait as I turned into the Rue St. Louis. Skirting the quays and crossing the river, I was soon in the suburbs of Paris and comparatively safe from pursuit. Here the extreme darkness delayed me as the crowds had in the busier portion of the city, but I knew that the distance to St. Cloud was only about six miles and that the regent could not reach the trap that had been set for him for an hour at least. So I gave the horse his head, confident that I should yet be able to defeat this last resort of the duchess. As I went I wondered who it was to whom she had committed this desperate mission, and to this question I could find no answer. It seemed to me an enterprise which no gentleman would undertake, and at which even a rogue would pause unless he were already without the pale of the law and so with little to lose. But that Madame du Maine would stoop to use such an instrument, even in her extremity, I could not believe. So I put the problem behind me and addressed myself to the question in hand, that of reaching St. Cloud in time.
I had one morning during my first week in Paris amused myself by loitering about the barrier and watching the arrival and departure of carriages on the Versailles road, and though I had never been over this road, I had little doubt that I should be able to find the way without difficulty. So my heart was light as I passed through the gloomy faubourgs, seemingly inhabited only by shadows, which slunk along under the walls of the houses. It was not until this moment that I realized what the failure of the plot meant to Richelieu, but even upon this point I soon felt more at ease, for perchance if I succeeded in saving the regent’s life he might be more inclined to listen to me.
The flare of a torch at the end of the street brought me from my revery, and I pulled my horse to a sudden halt and peered through the darkness ahead. I could dimly discern the barrier, and my heart seemed to stop as I saw that the gates were closed and that two sentries were pacing up and down in front of them. It would seem that I myself was in a trap.
I slid from my horse, led him to a side street, tied him, and then moved cautiously forward to examine the situation. Owing to the darkness I drew quite close to the gates without being discovered, and concealed myself behind a flight of steps which projected from one of the houses. As I had seen before, two sentries were guarding the gates, and had they been alone I might have had some chance of overpowering them. But from the guard-house at the side came the sound of laughter and the click of dice, and I knew that there were others there, who, at the first cry of alarm, would rush to the rescue of their comrades. Force, then, was not to be thought of and strategy was necessary. But by what strategy could I hope to persuade these men to allow myself and my horse to pass unquestioned, when they had doubtless received strict orders to allow no one to leave the city without close scrutiny? Here was an obstacle upon which I had not counted. In times of peace the gates were never shut, and I had thought to pass them without difficulty, but the discovery of the plot must have alarmed the authorities. At any rate, the gates were closed, and I did not doubt that some pass-word was necessary to open them.
As I was cudgelling my brains over this problem, which seemed on its face to baffle solution, I heard the rapid beat of a horse’s hoofs from the direction of the city, and a moment later a horse and rider came into view. He was riding with a fine disregard of the dangers of the loose and uneven pavement, and the sound of his rapid approach, which awoke a thousand echoes along the gloomy street, drew five or six guards from the sentry-house.
“Who goes there?” cried one of the men at the gate. “Stand, monsieur.”
“Who is in command here?” asked the new-comer, reining up his horse just in time to escape running down one of the sentries. “Quick! I have no time to lose.”
“I am, monsieur,” answered another voice from the direction of the house, and an officer hurried into the light cast by the torches over the gate. “What is it?”
“Orders for you, monsieur. You will read them at once. And now, open the gate. I have further advices for the regent, who is at Versailles.”
“The pass-word, monsieur?” said the commandant of the post.
“Rocroy,” answered the courier. “Quickly, let me pass.”
The gates were opened on the instant, and the rider put spurs to his horse and disappeared into the darkness of the road without. The gates were shut again, and the commandant retired to the guard-house to read his orders.
In an instant I saw my opportunity. I crept along the street until I reached my horse. Quickly mounting, I turned him down a side street, and came out again a little distance away on the road by which the courier had come. With a touch of the spur I urged my horse into a gallop, and approached the gate precisely as the first courier had done.
“Open!” I cried. “On the king’s service.”
“Pardieu,” growled the sentry, “it seems to me there are many couriers passing here to-night. Something must be afoot. The pass-word, if you please.”
“Rocroy,” I answered.
“All right, my friend, wait a moment,” and he placed his hand on one of the gates and half opened it as the commandant came running from the house, his orders still in his hand.
“Hold, Batard!” he cried to the sentry, “I wish to see this gentleman.” The man paused, still holding the gate half open.
“Let me see,” he continued, holding the paper up to the light and scanning it closely. “About twenty—gray suit—gray cloak—light moustache—light hair—mounted on black horse—” he looked at me for a moment keenly. “You cannot pass, monsieur,” he said. “It seems to me that you are Monsieur de Brancas, whom I have just received an order to arrest and hold at all hazard. Close the gate, Batard.”
But I had understood before he finished. I drove my spurs deep into the horse’s flanks, and with one bound upset the fellow who was still holding the half-opened gate. At the same instant the horse struck the gate, the force of the shock swinging it still farther open. We were through the opening before the guards had time to realize that I was escaping and plunged into the darkness without the walls. For the third time that night I knew that I should receive a volley in the rear, and I bent low in my saddle as the shots rang out behind me. Luckily, the rascals were too astonished to aim accurately, and the bullets whistled harmlessly over me. But there might be a pursuit, and I did not allow my horse to slacken his pace until the barrier was far behind.
As I rode I reflected upon this new perfidy of the duchess, for that she had furnished Hérault the description which had been sent to the Versailles gate I did not doubt, and was amazed anew at the daring and ingenuity of this woman, who knew how to use even her enemies in accomplishing her ends. At last, believing myself safe from pursuit, I drew up and looked about me. It was lighter here than in the narrow streets of the city, and the moon was just peeping over the horizon, but still I could see little. I had been delayed not less than half an hour at the barrier and knew that I had no time to lose, so I put spurs to my horse again and continued rapidly onward. In a few moments I came to a place where the road forked. Which was the road to Versailles, the right or the left? I did not know, and seeing no way of finding out, chose the left at a hazard and continued on. I had not ridden far when I saw at the side of the road ahead of me a dim light. As I drew nearer I perceived that it came from the window of a low and squalid hut. Here, perhaps, I might be able to gain the information I sought. I rode my horse up to the door, and, drawing a pistol from the holster, rapped with its butt.
There was silence for a moment within the house, and then the door slowly opened. As it did so, I was astonished to see that the candle which had been burning a moment before had been extinguished.
“What is it, monsieur?” asked a voice from the darkness within.
“Is this the road to Versailles?” I questioned.
“No, monsieur,” answered the voice, without hesitation; “you doubtless took the wrong road at the forks a mile back. Return there, monsieur, and take the right-hand road. Follow it straight ahead and it will lead you to Versailles.”
“Many thanks,” I answered, and turned my horse’s head. As I did so, I heard the click of a pistol within the room.
“Who goes to Versailles at this hour and for what?” cried another voice, which I seemed to recognize and yet could not place. “Hold, monsieur,” it continued; “do not move. I have you covered with my pistol and I never miss.”
There was a note of braggartry in the voice which refreshed my memory.
“Ah, it is Cartouche,” I said. “I wish you good-evening, monsieur.”
“And who may you be?” he asked. “You have the best of me, monsieur?”
“Doubtless,” I laughed. “You meet so many people, and usually in the dark. But you may, perhaps, remember an encounter some nights back with a man who was lost in Paris, and who was saved from your rascals only by the timely arrival of the Duc de Richelieu.”
“By my soul, yes,” he answered. “I have cause to remember it, since I lost three sturdy rogues. Are you that man?”
“I am he,” and I smiled down at the invisible form within the doorway, for I could imagine the expression which must be upon his face, “and I am glad of the opportunity of a word with you. You do not know, perhaps, that Richelieu is a prisoner in the Bastille and that his head is in great danger?”
“No, I did not know it.”
“It is so, nevertheless. He told me that he did you a service once and that you have not forgotten it.”
“That is so, monsieur,” said Cartouche.
“Perhaps you will now have opportunity to repay that kindness.”
“Perhaps,” he assented. “If the worst comes to the worst a rescue in the Place de Greve is not impossible. It has been done before.”
“And may be done again,” I cried, “if you can muster fifty rogues who are not afraid of steel.”
“Trust me for that,” answered Cartouche, quietly. “I can muster a hundred such if necessary. But why is M. de Richelieu imprisoned, monsieur?”
“Simply because the regent wishes it,” I said. “Richelieu has done nothing.”
“Ah!” and Cartouche remained for a moment thoughtful. “Well, monsieur,” he said, at last, in a tone full of significance, “I do not believe we shall need to have recourse to a rescue of that character. The matter will soon adjust itself.”
“Adjust itself? But how?” I questioned, in amazement.
“No matter,” and Cartouche laughed, a short dry laugh. “Only, monsieur, should a rescue become necessary, you may count upon me.”
“Very well,” I said. “I shall see you again, then, if there is need,” and I turned my horse back in the direction from which I had come.
“Wait a moment, monsieur,” he called, with a good-humored chuckle, coming out of the house and putting up his pistol. “You are already on the road to Versailles. It is one of the principles of our business never to tell the truth if it can be avoided. Continue straight ahead and you will reach St. Cloud. Ten leagues farther is Versailles.”
I turned my horse about with a jerk.
“Does the road run through a wood near here?” I asked, as I took a new hold on the bridle.
“Not half a league farther on, monsieur,” he answered, in a surprised voice, and I was off before he could say more. As I glanced back over my shoulder I saw him standing there still staring after me, and then, as though struck by a sudden idea, turn and vanish within the cabin. I had need of haste, for eleven o’clock could not be far distant. But the horse Madame du Maine had provided was a good one, and I laughed as I pictured to myself how she must be tearing her hair at the thought that it was she who had given me the means of saving the regent. The moon had risen clear of the trees while I was parleying with Cartouche and flooded the country with noonday brightness. Fearing no pitfalls in this wide and level road, I spurred onward, peering ahead for the wood of which Cartouche had spoken, but of which I could see no sign. Once I thought I heard the beat of horses’ hoofs behind me, but when I turned in my saddle I saw no one, and concluded that they were merely the echo of my own. The minutes passed, and finally, to my great relief, away before me I saw that the white road seemed to disappear in the darkness, as though cut off at the entrance to a tunnel. This, then, was the wood, and with new ardor, for I had begun to fear that Cartouche had misled me, I galloped towards it. The road flew past under my horse like some gigantic ribbon, and in a moment I was in the shadow of the trees.
Here I paused. I did not know how far the wood extended, nor did I know at what point the ambush had been prepared. The only thing to be done, evidently, was to ride to the other side and stop the regent and his party before they entered it. I proceeded cautiously, the dust deadening the hoofbeats of my horse, for I did not know at what moment I myself might be greeted by a volley from the roadside. At last, far down the avenue ahead, I saw the road opening out into the plain, and at the same moment I again heard the sound of swiftly galloping horses in my rear. This time there was no mistaking the sound, and as I turned, I saw a troop of three or four just entering the wood. As I looked at them the mysterious words of Cartouche flashed into my head. Could it be that it was to him the duchess had confided the task of assassinating the regent, and that he had not suspected my purpose until too late to stop me? The thought made me drive the spurs once more into the flanks of my horse, and as I did so I heard again that clear, sharp whistle which Cartouche had used once before to summon his men to attack me. Almost before the sound had died away under the trees there came a flash of fire from the roadside, a ringing report, and my horse stumbled and nearly fell, then continued slowly onward, limping badly. I heard the horses of my pursuers rapidly drawing nearer, and even at that moment I saw ahead of me down the road another little troop approaching from the direction of Versailles, and knew it was the regent and three or four companions. Would I be in time? Would my horse carry me out of the forest? The troop behind me was dangerously near.
“Stop, monsieur!” cried a voice, which I knew to be that of Cartouche. “Stop or we fire!”
Without answering, I threw myself forward upon my horse’s neck and again drove in the spurs. I could hear the poor brute’s breath coming in gasps, and from the trembling of his body I knew he was almost done. But it was no time to spare him, and the white road gleaming in the moonlight just ahead was so near—so near.
Again Cartouche cried out for me to halt, and again I did not answer.
I glanced ahead and saw that the regent’s party had apparently heard the tramp of our horses, for they had stopped to listen. In an instant I had seized a pistol from the holster and fired it in the air. They would hear the report and at least be prepared to face the danger which threatened them. As my shot rang out through the still night air I heard a savage oath behind me. There came a crash of pistols and a great blow seemed to strike me in the head. I reeled in the saddle, caught myself as I was falling, and held on. The earth seemed whirling under me, strange lights danced before my eyes. I shook them from me with clenched teeth; I was out in the moonlight; my horse still staggered on. And then, as in a dream, I saw the regent, sitting on his horse calmly in the middle of the road.
“Save yourself, monsieur!” I cried. “Save yourself! They would kill you!”
I felt the horse slipping from under me, the sky grew black, something in my head seemed to burst, and I knew no more.