CHAPTER XX
THE SECRET STAIRCASE
I fell back into my chair and gazed at Richelieu in speechless horror. This was a blow I had not foreseen and which I was totally unprepared to meet. The regent, it seemed, had scored a second time. In fact, he appeared to hold all the winning cards.
“I suspected that Orleans would try a game of this kind,” continued the duke, after a moment. “You remember, I warned you against it, de Brancas.”
“Yes, I remember,” I groaned, “and yet I did nothing to prevent it.”
Richelieu arose quickly and came towards me.
“Believe me,” he said, taking my hand, “I am not blaming you in the least, my friend. But you have a bandage about your head. You have been wounded, then? Forgive me for allowing my own affairs to blind me so.”
I answered with a pressure of the hand.
“You have not heard?” I asked, quickly.
“I have heard nothing,” said Richelieu. “They permitted me to receive no one, to speak to no one. They would not even permit me to wave my handkerchief to you, as you know. What has happened?”
As briefly as I could I told him the story of Madame du Maine’s arrest and repeated what I had already heard from d’Ancenis.
“This is all very well,” said Richelieu, when I had finished, “but you have not yet told me how you received your wound, de Brancas. Come, my friend, I suspect another of your dare-devil adventures. Tell me about it.”
So I told him the story of my night ride and the rescue of the regent. Richelieu heard me with sparkling eyes.
“’Twas well done!” he cried. “By my word, I would I had been there. You are right, de Brancas, assassination is something no gentleman can countenance. I am surprised that Madame du Maine should go so far. She must indeed have been desperate.” He remained silent for some moments, musing deeply. “So the regent was too quick for us and everything is known,—even my treason, for so it must appear to him. In faith, I do not wonder he had sworn to have my head. And yet,” he added, “I would he had taken it rather than that Charlotte should pay this price.”
“How did you learn of it?” I questioned.
“An hour ago,” said Richelieu, “a guard came to my cell and told me to follow him. I did not doubt that my destination was the Place de Greve, but I had found imprisonment so irksome that I was ready to welcome any change, even the block. Besides, I was not sorry to have the opportunity of showing the regent how a gentleman should die. I was taken to the office of Maison-Rouge and left there alone with him. He told me that the regent had ordered my release, and when I remained too astonished to reply, he handed me a note.
“‘’Tis from the regent,’ he said.
“I opened the note, suspecting some new blow. You may guess my feelings when I saw that it was a command to be present to-morrow morning at the Palais Royal to witness the marriage by proxy of Charlotte and the Duc de Modena. Across the bottom of the note was written, ‘The price paid for the head of M. le Duc de Richelieu.’ I tore the note into a thousand pieces. I told Maison-Rouge that I would not accept the price and commanded him to take me back to my cell. He merely smiled, and said that the price had already been accepted by the regent, since my head belonged no longer to me but to him, and calling two guards, he had me led to the outer gate, which was closed behind me.”
“I’ll wager ’twas the first time in the history of the Bastille that a prisoner had to be forced to leave it,” I cried. “Come, monsieur, do not despair. The regent has overleaped himself in releasing you so soon. The price may have been accepted, but it is not yet paid.”
“Not yet paid?”
“No. And furthermore, it need never be paid if you do not wish it.”
“You have a plan, then?” cried Richelieu, his face brightening.
“Perhaps.”
“Come, let us have it,” and he clasped my hand again. “I should have remembered that I had your clear brain and loyal heart still to rely upon.”
“Answer me one question, M. le Duc,” I said. “Suppose the princess and yourself were in a carriage speeding towards the frontier. Suppose your flight was not discovered for eight or ten hours. Do you think you would be safe?”
“Safe, de Brancas? Why, man, with one hour’s start we should be safe. I have a dozen horses the like of which are not to be found in France, not even in the regent’s stables.”
“And where are these horses?” I asked.
“In my stables here.”
“Then, my dear friend,” I cried, springing to my feet, “consider it done. At ten o’clock to-night Mlle. de Valois and yourself will set out from Paris. In two days you will be safe at Mons, that is, if you are permitted to pass the frontier.”
“Trust me for that,” said Richelieu. “A thousand pistoles will accomplish wonders. The only thing I do not understand, my friend, is how you will manage to get Charlotte into the carriage with me.”
“M. le Duc,” I queried, “do you imagine for a moment that the thought of this marriage pleases her?”
“No more than it does myself.”
“Would she not, then, welcome an opportunity of escaping it?”
“Oh, I believe so!” cried Richelieu.
“Well, trust me, M. le Duc, you shall offer her that opportunity to-night. But we have no time to lose and there is much to do. Leave the details of the plan to me.”
“I do not understand, but I trust you fully, my friend,” said Richelieu, and asked no further questions.
A relay of horses was started to St. Quentin and a second to Compeigne, to await the arrival of the carriage containing the duke and his companion. The lightest and most comfortable carriage in his stables was brought out and thoroughly overhauled. I myself saw that it was piled with cushions and equipped with everything that could add to the comfort or convenience of the travellers. I provided for every possible contingency of which I could think, and personally interviewed the man whom Richelieu had selected to drive until I was satisfied that he was thoroughly acquainted with the road and that he was no coward. The tumult caused by the discovery of the plot had quieted down, and on inquiry I found that the gates of the city were again open day and night, so that Richelieu would have no difficulty in passing the barrier. We decided that the carriage should take the most direct route and trust to speed, as it was important above everything that it should reach the frontier ahead of any of the regent’s emissaries. Richelieu collected together all the money he had and stored it in the coach. I added a sword, a brace of pistols, and a musket, and a similar equipment to the top of the coach for the use of the driver. To the rear was strapped a case containing changes of clothing. At last I could think of nothing more.
All this had taken time, and evening had come before the final arrangements were completed. Then Jacques lighted the candles and summoned us to dinner, a summons which I was not sorry to obey, for the day’s work had wearied me greatly. He had provided a feast of great elaborateness as a farewell to his master, but Richelieu seemed too nervous to enjoy it. As for me, I was so certain of success that I felt no great anxiety.
“Come, this will not do,” I remonstrated, seeing that he was merely playing with the food. “You must eat, my friend. You will have need of courage before you reach Mons, and I know of nothing which so tends to make a coward of a man as an empty stomach.”
“You are right,” he answered, “but if you knew the anxiety I am suffering at this moment you would not expect me to eat. Do you really believe we shall succeed?”
“M. le Duc,” I said, earnestly, “success will depend largely upon yourself. I agree to bring you into the presence of Mlle. de Valois. If you can persuade her to flee with you, well and good, we succeed; but if you cannot do this, we must retire defeated. Come, I drink to your success.”
“And I to yours,” he answered. “Forgive me, de Brancas, for again thinking only of myself. I hope with all my heart that you will be successful.”
I bowed with brimming eyes, for he had touched me closely.
“It may be long before we dine together again, monsieur,” I said. “May I assure you of my devoted friendship?”
“I have no need of such assurance,” and Richelieu arose from his chair and came to the side of mine. “I have already had a hundred proofs of it, in return for which I have done so little.”
“Oh, do not say that,” and I faced this man whom I had come to love with a great tenderness. “What should I have done in Paris but for you?”
And as I looked into his eyes I knew that here was one whose heart was brave and loyal.
Too moved to say more, we continued the meal in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. Mine were of Louise Dacour, and I wondered what the future had in store for us. A sudden thought occurred to me.
“Mlle. Dacour may choose to accompany the princess,” I said.
“And if she does, you will join us, will you not, de Brancas?” asked Richelieu, quickly. “Believe me, my friend, nothing would please me more than to have you with me, but I was loath to ask you to leave Paris while she remained behind.”
I consented, and it was agreed that I should join the duke at Brussels within a week if Mlle. de Valois took her companion with her. And if, I added to myself, the regent did not see fit to wreak upon my head the wrath which he would doubtless feel towards Richelieu. But of this I said nothing.
“Are you sure that you are strong enough to undertake this expedition?” asked Richelieu, as we arose from table.
I laughed at him.
“You shall see, if it comes to a question of using our swords,” I said. And then I remembered the bandage and my hand went to my head. “I cannot wear this ridiculous thing, I must remove it,” and I started to do so.
“Not for a moment!” cried the duke, springing to my side and seizing my hands. “Who can tell what hurt it would do you? Leave it there, Jean, or I swear I shall not go a step outside this house to-night.”
“But,” and I stopped. I could not tell him that it was fear of Louise’s laughing eyes which moved me.
Richelieu understood in an instant.
“It is an honorable wound,” he said, “received in an honorable cause. Why seek to hide it? It is the sight of wounds like that which moves a woman’s heart. They will find your pale, bandaged head very interesting, Jean, believe me.”
And so I left the bandage where it was.
Nine o’clock came, the carriage was waiting, we entered it, and drove by a circuitous route to the back of the Palais Royal gardens. Here we left it, and instructed the coachman to drive slowly up and down until he should be called. That done, I led the way under the shade of the chestnuts towards the palace. Richelieu asked no questions, but I could see that he was pale with anxiety. We mounted the low wall enclosing the little park which we had entered once before under the guidance of Mlle. Dacour, dropped down on the other side, and turned to the right.
“Ah, ah,” whispered Richelieu, “I begin to see. You hope to gain entrance by the secret staircase. But can you find the spring?”
“I believe so,” I answered, in the same low tone. “I was watching Mlle. Dacour closely when she opened the door for us, and know about where it is.” As I spoke I felt along the wall, but my fingers detected nothing. “It was near here. Have patience,” I said, for I could feel his hand on my arm trembling with suspense. Again I ran my hand over the wall, pressing gently on two or three small irregularities, but without result. “Come, I will try again,” and a third time I examined the wall, this time more carefully and over a larger area. “Ah, I have it!” I exclaimed as I felt a yielding under my fingers, and the door swung inward.
“It was time,” said Richelieu, for as we entered another door near by opened, and hurrying feet passed along the walk, even as we pushed the door shut after us. We were in intense darkness, but I knew the way, and guiding myself by the wall, turned without hesitation towards the narrow hallway, Richelieu following close behind, his hand in mine. We found the hallway without difficulty and passed along it cautiously until we reached the end, and slowly felt our way up the little winding staircase there. The wooden wall which formed the back of the preserve closet stopped us.
“Wait a moment,” whispered Richelieu, as I began to feel for the spring, whose approximate position I had also seen. “Does Charlotte know of this visit?”
“No,” I answered; “I had no opportunity to warn her of it, else I doubt not she would have sent some one to guide us and so saved us all this trouble.”
“But,” Richelieu objected, “perhaps she will not be alone; perhaps she will resent an intrusion of this kind.”
“Very well,” I answered, losing patience a little at this unexpected wavering, which was so unlike the duke, “we can yet turn back, open the door, return to the carriage, drive to your hotel, and secure a good night’s rest before attending the wedding to-morrow morning.”
“Forgive me, de Brancas,” said Richelieu, after a moment. “I am so unstrung I scarce know what I am saying. Open the door if you can find the spring.”
I felt along the boards for two or three minutes without result. It doubtless seemed an age to Richelieu, and I could hear him breathing unevenly and shuffling his feet behind me.
“For God’s sake, de Brancas,” he said at last, in a strained whisper, “make haste! This is more than I can bear.”
I felt myself beginning to tremble in sympathy with him, and pulled myself up with a jerk, recognizing the fact that it was absolutely necessary for one of us to keep his head.
“A little patience,” I whispered; “this spring is more difficult to find than the other, and it is so devilishly dark here.”
Again I ran my hand up and down the wall. It was made of narrow boards fitted closely together. Back and forth I passed my hand over it, and just as I was beginning to despair I felt a slight inequality. I pressed it and the door opened against us. We stepped back out of the way, and in a moment were in the closet. The door shut behind us of its own accord.
The door which opened from the closet into the room beyond was not tightly closed, and through this opening we could make a partial survey of the room. It was empty in so far as we could see, and I was about to suggest that we make a cautious scrutiny of the remainder of it, when a sound as of stifled sobbing startled me.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“My God, do you not know what it is?” exclaimed Richelieu. “It is Charlotte,—Charlotte weeping over her coming sacrifice. Stay here, my friend,” and before I could do aught to prevent him he had opened the door, stepped through it, and closed it behind him. I heard a startled exclamation from the princess, and at the same instant another sound which sent a cold shiver down my back. Some one was ascending the spiral staircase with assured and regular tread. The footsteps paused for a moment without the door, then there came a click, a breath of air, and a smell as of a candle newly extinguished. I drew back into one corner of the closet, and as I did so this unknown person stepped into it and closed the secret door behind him.