CHAPTER VI
A SURPRISE FOR MAISON-ROUGE
There was narrow foothold, and my head whirled for an instant as I clung to the bars with one hand and looked down at the flickering torches in the court below and along the outer wall. But the giddiness passed, and I leaned far out and vainly tried to pierce the darkness above me. The wall sloped outward at the height of my head, so that I could not see the top, but I had seen the parapet in daylight from a distance and knew that the merlons were narrow and spiked along the crest. It was over one of these that I must throw my rope, and I drew a deep breath as I nerved myself for the effort. Once, twice, I threw, with a long, outward sweep of the arm, and each time the rope fell back past me. Three, four, five times, but each time it came back without resistance. I paused for breath, and heard Richelieu cursing softly at the window. I leaned far out and threw the sixth time. The rope held. I bore my weight upon it, still clinging to the bars with one hand. It still held. Obviously, what I had hoped for had happened.
And then I paused, while the perspiration started in beads at the roots of my hair. As the wall sloped outward above me, I saw that so soon as I grasped the rope and loosed my hold on the bars of the window I would be swung outward. But there was no time to hesitate, and I feared that if I stopped to think my heart would fail me, so closing my eyes, I grasped the rope and let myself go. In a moment I was dangling like a fly over the abyss. Gripping my teeth, I went up hand over hand to the parapet, straining my wounded shoulder grievously, grasped the top of the battlement, pulled myself over, and fell limp as a rag on the other side. A moment later I heard a scratching against the wall, and Richelieu scrambled over beside me.
“Do not move,” he whispered, crouching under the parapet; “I hear footsteps.”
I also heard them, and saw faintly a sentry approaching with musket on his shoulder.
“’Tis our salvation,” I whispered, for in an instant I saw a way of escape.
“Our salvation?” questioned Richelieu.
“Make no noise, monsieur,” I answered, “and I will show you.”
The sentry was opposite us. A step more and he had passed. In that instant I was upon him, my fingers at his throat. Before he could utter a sound, or, indeed, understand what had happened, I had dragged him down into the shadow. Richelieu caught his gun as it fell, and seizing the rope from the parapet, had bound his feet together in a trice.
“Quick, quick!” I whispered. “Perhaps there is another sentry. This one must not be missed.”
I stripped off the fellow’s coat, while Richelieu stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth. Then we tied his hands, gagged him, and rolled him into the shadow. I threw on his coat, donned his hat, picked up his musket, and continued along his beat. A moment later I saw the form of another sentry approaching through the gloom.
“Montjoy,” he cried, as he neared me.
The old battle-cry of France flashed into my mind in an instant. I can call it nothing less than inspiration.
“St. Denis,” I answered.
“All’s well,” said the man, and passed me.
It was a simple thing to reach out and clutch his windpipe. Richelieu heard the struggle and ran to my assistance. I tore our rope into shorter pieces, and in a moment the fellow was secured.
“Are there any others?” asked the duke.
“I do not know,” I answered. “Wait and I will make the circuit.” I picked up the gun again and started on the round. I completed it without encountering any one. “There are only two sentries,” I said, as I rejoined Richelieu.
“Good,” he answered; “and now what?”
“My plan is to put on the clothes of these men and take their guns. When the guard is changed we will descend, and will perhaps be permitted to go out without question. If any one tries to stop us, we must kill him. At least, we shall be armed.”
“Splendid!” cried Richelieu. “By my soul, de Brancas, you are a man after my own heart.”
“Let us see how long we have to wait,” I said, and loosened the gag in the mouth of our first prisoner. “Tell us, fellow,” I said to him, “how soon are the guards changed?”
“In an hour,” he answered, sullenly.
I replaced the gag, and as I did so a new difficulty struck me.
“We must get rid of these men,” I said. “If the guards who come after us find them, they will give the alarm, and the prison will be aroused in a moment.”
“But we cannot kill them,” cried Richelieu, and I heard the two prisoners breathing heavily.
“No,” I answered; “but we must get rid of them, nevertheless. Wait a moment,” and I made a rapid circuit of the roof. “I have it. The chimneys.”
“The chimneys?”
“Yes; why not? We can lift them over and drop them inside.”
“But they would fall to the bottom.”
“Perhaps not. Let me see,” and I ran to the nearest chimney, drew myself to the top of it, and carefully let myself down within. My feet encountered an obstacle, and I cautiously bore my weight upon it. It seemed quite firm, and I released my hold of the chimney and stooped down to investigate. I found that I was standing upon a heavy iron grating solidly embedded in the masonry. In a moment I understood. It had been placed there to prevent any one crawling up the chimney and perhaps escaping. There was a certain grim humor in the thought that this grating, which had been designed to prevent escape, should be of assistance to us. “Come, this is excellent,” I said, clambering out, and I explained to Richelieu what I had found. “One man in each chimney, well bound and gagged. I warrant you they will not be soon discovered.”
“But they will be smothered!” exclaimed the duke.
“By what?”
“By smoke and heat.”
“Ah, you forget, monsieur,” I said, “how few fires there are in the Bastille, and how small are the few which do exist.”
“True,” murmured Richelieu; and added, “You seem to think of everything, my friend.”
It was the work of only a few moments to strip our prisoners and draw their clothes on over our own. Each had a dagger in his belt, and these also we appropriated. Our hats we dropped down the chimney nearest us.
“Come, my friends,” I said to the two men, who were shivering in the icy wind which swept across the building, “you are soon to be in a warmer place. No, do not fear, we are not going to harm you,—that is, if you keep still. We are going to slip each of you down one of those chimneys, where, about six feet from the top, there is a grating upon which you can stand very comfortably. I promise you, moreover, that if you are quiet and do not struggle we will send a message to the governor in the morning telling him where you are, so that he can release you.”
I saw that the gags were fast and that their hands and feet were securely bound. Then I mounted the chimney and, with the assistance of Richelieu, pulled one of the prisoners to the top and lowered him inside. I felt him shudder as he swung over the inky pit, but his feet soon found the grating, and in a moment he was standing in safety and quite invisible from the roof. The same manœuvre was repeated at the other chimney, I having first assured myself that it was also grated, and Richelieu and I were left alone upon the parapet. All of this had taken time, and we knew the moment of the relief could not be far distant. We picked up the muskets and started to patrol the roof.
“The pass-word,” I said to Richelieu, “is Montjoy and St. Denis.”
“And how under heaven do you know that, my friend?” he asked, in amazement.
“By inspiration,” I answered, and left him to his astonishment. We had made the round scarce half a dozen times when we heard a door unbolted.
“Montjoy,” cried a voice.
“St. Denis,” we answered, from different parts of the roof.
“All right, mes enfants,” cried the voice; “step lively, if you please.”
A faint light appeared, and we hastened towards it.
“You are to report at once to the governor,” said the man, who by his uniform I saw to be an officer. “Two of the guards are ill to-night and you will have to do double duty.”
“Very good, monsieur,” I answered, and saluting, we hurried down the steps, exchanging the pass-word with the two guards who were mounting to relieve us. Luckily we knew the location of the governor’s office. The darkness favored us, and at the magic words Montjoy and St. Denis the drawbridge was lowered and the gates were opened into the outer court.
“This way,” said Richelieu, “and pray heaven he be alone.”
We hastened towards a lighted window, which we could see distinctly through the darkness. Richelieu peered into the room.
“It is he,” he whispered. “He is sitting at a table writing, with his back to the door. I think he is alone. We must surprise him. Are you ready?” and he drew his dagger from his belt.
“Yes,” I said, “I am quite ready,” and I also drew my dagger.
He opened the door noiselessly, and we entered quickly. I shot the bolts into place, and with one spring Richelieu was at the side of Maison-Rouge, his poniard against his throat.
“One sound, one movement,” he said, between his teeth, “and you are a dead man, monsieur.”
Maison-Rouge looked around with a start, felt the dagger against his neck, and like a discreet man remained silent, his face impassive as ever.
“Now, de Brancas, quick. A gag and some rope.” I found both without difficulty. “We forget the window,” cried Richelieu, suddenly. “Close it, man.” I closed the iron shutter so that not a ray of light could be seen from without, and Maison-Rouge was soon secured.
“Now,” said Richelieu, “let us go.”
“On the contrary, let us stay,” I answered.
“How, stay? Are you mad?”
“Not at all. Alone, we shall never be able to pass the outer gate. Only M. de Maison-Rouge can get us out. The question is, will he do it?”
“Hardly,” said Richelieu.
“I believe that he will,” I said, “when he has fully considered the situation. One question, M. le Duc. Do you wish to leave Paris?”
“Certainly not.”
“And yet, if you escape, you will have to leave Paris, will you not, and perhaps France?”
“I fear so,” said Richelieu, gloomily.
“Ah, now I am sure that you will favor my plan. Now, M. de Maison-Rouge, attention. Let me tell you first that we have a very important engagement for this evening, which we are determined to keep. If we escape, leaving you behind here, your prestige is lost. Conceive the anger of the regent when he finds that you have permitted to slip through your fingers the two prisoners whom he had especially charged you to watch closely.”
A groan escaped the unfortunate man. His impassiveness yielded to this blow, as I had thought it would.
“On the other hand, what I propose to you is this. You order your coach, we enter with you, you drive out through the gates, announcing that you go on a mission of importance. Three hours later you drive in again, we with you.” I saw both men start. “You will send us back to our second watch on the roof. We release the two sentries, who will not have been discovered, return them their uniforms, secure their silence, regain our rooms, and remove all traces of our flight. Everything will be as it was before, and when in the morning the regent sends to inquire after his prisoners, you can inform him that they are safe. Does the plan strike you favorably, monsieur?”
I had been watching him closely as I talked and I was satisfied that he would consent. I loosened the gag.
“Do you consent, monsieur?” I repeated.
“What assurance have I that you will return with me?” he asked.
“My word of honor.”
“And yours also, M. le Duc?”
“Certainly, mine also,” answered Richelieu.
“Messieurs,” said Maison-Rouge, “I understand nothing of all this, but I am in your power. I will do anything to keep my prisoners. I consent.”
“And what assurance have we?” I asked.
“My word of honor also.”
“That will do,” said Richelieu. “Besides, we have always our poniards.”
“Let us make haste, then,” I cried, and I untied Maison-Rouge, first assuring myself that he was unarmed.
“Unbolt the door,” he said. Richelieu did so. The governor rang a bell. A man entered, and I saw Richelieu grip his dagger convulsively. At least, Maison-Rouge would not escape if he showed a sign of treachery.
“My coach, at once,” said the governor. “Inform Lieutenant Perrault that he is to take my place here until I return from a mission of importance.”
The man saluted and withdrew. I drew a breath of relief, and I felt that my forehead was damp with perspiration for the second time that night. Maison-Rouge donned his cloak and hat. Five tense minutes passed. Then the door opened and the man reappeared.
“The coach is waiting, monsieur,” he said.
“Very well,” replied the governor. “And Perrault?”
“Will be here in a moment, monsieur.”
“We will not wait for him. Follow me, my men,” and he led the way to a coach whose lanterns gleamed through the darkness. He entered first and we followed him. We were stopped at the drawbridge, and the sentry thrust in his head to be certain that it was really the governor of the Bastille who passed.
“All’s well,” he cried. The drawbridge creaked down and we rumbled over. There was a moment’s delay at the outer gate, then it was opened and we were free.
“Where to, monsieur?” asked the coachman, drawing up outside the gate.
I whispered in the governor’s ear.
“To the Hotel de Richelieu,” he answered.
Not a word was spoken as we dashed through the almost deserted streets, and we were soon in the Rue des Saints Pères. The coachman stopped before the central gate of the hotel.
“Wait a moment here,” said Richelieu, and he sprang from the coach, ran to the gate, and rang the bell. A lacquey answered the summons, and after a whispered word with him Richelieu motioned us forward. As we passed he stepped again into the coach, and the gate was closed behind us. In a moment we were at the great entrance of the house.
“Come with us, monsieur,” I said to Maison-Rouge, and motioned him to get out first.
“The governor wishes you on no account to leave this place,” I said to the driver as we descended. “M. de Maison-Rouge intends to look through the papers of M. de Richelieu. It may take some time, but you are to await him here.”
The coachman, well drilled, doubtless, in his master’s peculiar business, nodded to show that he understood.
We mounted the steps, and Richelieu knocked at the door. It was opened by Jacques, who recognized his master at once and admitted us without a word.
“Jacques,” said Richelieu, as the door closed, “you will conduct this gentleman to the red salon. Call two of my men and let them assist you in guarding him. On no account is he to escape or communicate with any one. You will, however, provide him with wine and whatever else he may require.”
The man bowed and led our prisoner down a corridor to the left. Richelieu sprang up the stairs, and I followed him to the apartment we had entered the evening before. Here he paused.
“De Brancas,” he said, turning to me and grasping my hand, “you are sublime, my friend. Believe me, I shall never forget it.”