About seven o'clock in the evening John Humphreys, who was just off duty, joined me, and shortly afterwards Raoul arrived.
"No news?" cried the latter, noticing my gloomy looks. "Well, there is no need to despair. I have so arranged that Peleton will find it difficult to slip through the gates, and I have heard something of your cousin. Young D'Arçy met him last evening in the Rue de Roi."
"Then he has taken up his old quarters in La Boule d'Or and hidden Peleton there!" I exclaimed; but Raoul shook his head.
"Condé's troopers have searched the house by now, and no doubt a watch is set. Still, we might walk that way."
"Have you told Armand the story?"
"Yes, he can be trusted; and he has a host of acquaintances."
"Very well, let us go down to the Rue de Roi;" then, turning to Humphreys, I remarked, "we may have need of our swords to-night."
We had only just turned the corner of the street, when Raoul exclaimed, "Why, there is D'Arçy! Armand, here is an old friend who will be glad to see you."
"De Lalande! So they have let you out of the Bastille? Condé made a mistake. He should have kept you behind the bars till the trouble is at an end. You will soon be running into fresh mischief. Where are you going now?"
"On a voyage of discovery," said Raoul. "Will you come?"
"Gladly! The times are out of joint, and I have nothing to do."
I introduced him to Humphreys, and we went on together to the Rue de Roi. Leaving us at the corner, to watch, Raoul crossed the road and boldly entered the famous inn. The street was crowded with people, and, lest some chance passer-by might recognise me, I muffled my face, and leaned against the wall, while Armand and John Humphreys stood a short distance off.
Raoul was absent a long time, and we began to fidget, but presently he came out and made his way toward us.
"We are on a false scent," he said; "our quarry has not been there, though Henri has. Condé's troopers have searched the house twice in three days, and the landlord is quite indignant. But I believe the rascal knows something about Peleton."
Armand was on the point of answering when I caught sight of a figure which induced me to draw my companions back where they would not be noticed. It was Pillot in a tremendous hurry. He had been running fast: his hair and face were wet with perspiration; he was breathing irregularly, and kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to discover an enemy. Stopping outside the inn, he looked anxiously up the street, was apparently reassured, and then darted like an eel up the side entrance.
"The Abbé's man," said D'Arçy; "the poor fellow our friend here half murdered."
Raoul became excited. "A messenger either to or from Henri de Lalande!" he exclaimed, and was about to dart across the road when I pulled him back roughly, saying, "Be still! You will spoil everything. Let us stay here and follow when he returns."
"Good advice!" agreed D'Arçy. "We may learn something. Hola! What an uproar! Something serious the matter one would imagine. Here comes D'Artagnan with his musketeers! The fellow rides as if Paris belongs to him. See how he sweeps the canaille out of his path!"
"The crowd is closing up," said Humphreys, "and the musketeers will have hard work to force a way. Ah! there's one fellow down. D'Artagnan is a fine rider. See how he manages his horse! He would have done good work in our ranks at Naseby. And a sworder, too! There's a stroke!"
"Smother him!" laughed D'Arçy; "we shall have the rabble here in a minute. Be quiet, my dear fellow; I warrant D'Artagnan is no better fencer than yourself."
"Hang D'Artagnan!" cried Raoul excitedly. "Look, there goes the little man."
"And a man in a gray cloak behind him! Is that Peleton?"
"No," said I, "it is my cousin. Quick, let us follow and see where they go."
While the squabble progressed in the narrow street, and the air was filled with threats and cries of terror, while steel rang against steel, and from more than one quarter came the sounds of firing, we ran swiftly in the wake of my cousin and his henchman. Pillot surprised us by the rapidity of his movements. Though so short of stature he ran at a tremendous pace, and had the man in the gray cloak been able to keep pace with him, we must soon have been thrown off. As it was, we kept the second of the fugitives well in view; and so the chase continued almost without a stop, save when Pillot halted from motives of prudence.
The noise of the strife behind us died away; we were in a labyrinth of narrow streets, and had need of caution, though Humphreys suggested overtaking my cousin, and forcing him at the point of the sword to speak.
"No, no," I exclaimed, panting, "that will never do. A fight here would bring the people out in hundreds. Besides, my cousin is no coward, and we should obtain nothing from him by force."
So we ran on, maintaining the interval between us and the gray mantle, till at length Pillot stopped for his master, while Armand d'Arçy, plucking my sleeve, whispered, "Do you know where we are?"
"Yes," I answered quietly, "I recognise the street. Higher up on the other side is the house of Martin the astrologer. We shall discover something now. Unless I am very greatly mistaken we are close to Peleton's hiding-place."
"Your cousin is an artful rascal, Albert. Just notice how unconcernedly he walks along. No one would imagine he was in any danger. Ah! They are crossing the road! Corbleu! you were right—they are going to Martin's."
"Follow me one at a time, and without making a sound," I said, softly. "Keep close to the wall, and well out of sight. What an old fox Martin is! I thought Mazarin had taught him a lesson."
Hiding in a doorway below the astrologer's house we awaited events. It was evident that Pillot had not fetched his master for nothing, and Raoul, who stood next to me, whispered, "They have scented danger of some sort, either to Henri or to Peleton."
"Peleton is shut up in that house somewhere, take my word for it," I answered quietly. "Look!"
Drawing a whistle from beneath his mantle, Henri blew sharply, and almost immediately the window was thrown up. We could not hear the conversation, but presently the man inside closed the window, and a few minutes later the door was opened. Then Henri said something in a whisper to Pillot and entered. The little man waited till his master had disappeared, gave a last glance at the house, and turned, as we supposed, to come down the street.
"Let him pass," whispered Raoul, "then spring on him from behind and clap a mantle over his head. We must not let him call for help."
"Be as gentle as possible; he is a plucky fellow, and I am a long way in his debt. Don't forget that he saved my life."
To our surprise, however, Pillot did not get farther than the next house, when he stopped, and began to unlock the door. This unexpected manoeuvre held us in amazement, but Raoul, who had no intention to be thus baulked of his prey, acted promptly. Bounding from his hiding-place, he reached the door almost at one leap, and his hands closed like a vice round Pillot's neck. The next instant we were all in the passage, and D'Arçy closed the door.
"Now," exclaimed Raoul, loosening his grip, "if you raise your voice you are a dead man. Do you understand?"
"'Tredame!" spluttered the dwarf, rubbing his neck, "monsieur explains himself well. He speaks to the point and leaves no room for mistakes. But perhaps monsieur will tell me the reason for this unexpected visit. My poor house is not often honoured by such company!"
"The wheel has turned again, Pillot; nothing more," I laughed. "We want to see M. Peleton, who is a very dear friend of ours."
"Is it you, monsieur? It would have been better for us had I left you to Maubranne's mercy. As to M. Peleton, how should I know anything of him? He disappeared after that affair with Condé."
"Be sensible, Pillot, the game is against you. We are four; you are one, and in our power. Accept your defeat like a man, and wait till the wheel brings you on top again. Peleton is in this house or the next, and we intend to find him. Come, there is no time to waste."
"Monsieur is so pressing one cannot refuse him," said he, and led the way along the passage, with Raoul's pistol at his head by way of reminder.
"We must have a light," D'Arçy declared; "there is no fun in visiting our friends in the dark."
"There is a lighted candle in the room on our left," remarked Pillot, and, with Raoul still guarding him, he went to fetch it.
We were now at the bottom of the stairs, and I suggested that Armand and Humphreys should stay there as a kind of rear-guard.
"A good plan!" said Raoul. "Should this fellow attempt to escape run your sword through him. Now, my man, lead on, and remember you will pay dearly for mistakes."
I had rarely known my comrade so firm, so energetic and determined: this was a phase of his character not often shown. Pillot shrugged his shoulders carelessly and led the way. Up we went through the silent house, past many empty rooms, till our guide came to a halt on the topmost storey.
"Our dear Peleton likes to be high up," said he with a grin; "it is so quiet and pleasant. By this time most likely he has gone to bed; he keeps good hours. Perhaps monsieur will unlock the door while I hold the candle," and he handed Raoul a key.
Stooping down, my comrade endeavoured to insert the key, but there was evidently something amiss.
"Monsieur has not the knack," said Pillot. "Shall I try?"
"I believe you have given me the wrong key, you rascal."
"Oh, surely not, monsieur! I could not have been so stupid. Let me see it. No, it is the proper key, monsieur. See," and taking the key from Raoul, he asked him to hold the light.
In passing from one to the other the candle by some means dropped to the ground and the light was extinguished, leaving us in darkness.
"Do not move, monsieur; it is close to your foot. Now I have it! Ah, you have kicked it away. What a misfortune!"
We could hear the rascal groping about for a time; then all was still, and he made no reply to our calling. Raoul was furious, and threatened to kill the fellow, when he caught him, a clause very needful to add.
"He has tricked us!" said Raoul, searching for the candle, though with small hope of finding it.
To my astonishment, for I thought Pillot too sharp to leave it behind, the candle lay unbroken not a yard from my feet, and a light soon showed that our guide had disappeared. It was very annoying to be duped in this way, but I could not help laughing at Pillot's craftiness.
"He won't try to get past Armand and Humphreys," said Raoul; "he will hide away in one of the empty rooms."
Suddenly some words spoken by Mazarin months before came into my mind, and I began to rail at my folly.
"Raoul," I cried, "unless we get Peleton out quickly it will be too late. There is a means of communication between the two houses, and Pillot has gone for assistance."
"Peleton isn't likely to be in here," growled Raoul.
"Why not? Pillot would have given you the right key if the room was empty. Anyway we will find out," and taking a run I dashed myself against the door.
Raoul followed, and then we went at it together. Once, twice, thrice. The last time it showed signs of yielding—presently with a crash it burst open.
"Come on," I cried, seizing the candle which I had placed upright against the wall. "Can you see anyone?"
"No," answered Raoul, "but there is a bed in the corner. Bring the candle."
We ran across the room quickly, and there, fully dressed, but with his arms bound, lay Peleton. His face was ghastly white, and he shook with fear.
"Get up," I cried sharply—there was no leisure for ceremony—"do you hear?"
"What do you want with me?" he whined, for, with all his bluster, the fellow had no more pluck than a pigeon.
"To carry you to Condé—dead or alive—you can take your choice. If you listen to my advice, you will come peaceably. I will go first, Raoul; you come behind and keep a sharp eye on our friend."
"And I will use a sharp sword if he doesn't mind himself," said Raoul.
Now I shall always believe that as soon as his first fright had passed, Peleton was rather pleased than otherwise to accompany us. His information would be worth much to Condé, and I have no doubt he expected to drive a very good bargain. He did not attempt the least resistance, nor did he endeavour to lag behind as I hurried him from the room.
We had reached the head of the stairs when I drew a sharp breath, and Raoul uttered a cry of anger. The scene was lit up by the flare of torches, and Pillot's shrill laugh came floating up to us. At the same moment we heard Henri's mocking voice, and there, sword in hand, stood my cousin, barring our path. Below him were several brawny ruffians, bearing pikes and clubs, and, last of all, Pillot, who shouted with good-humoured banter, "Aha! the wheel has turned again, monsieur!"
Henri affected to treat the matter as a joke, saying, "Chut! Albert, did you not know Peleton was my guest? I cannot allow him to leave at this hour! The night air is not good for him. Return to your room, M. Peleton, my cousin will accept your excuses."
"A truce to this farce," I cried. "Will you let us pass peacefully?"
"Certainly. You can come down, but I cannot part with M. Peleton just yet. I enjoy his society too much."
"We shall not leave without Peleton," I cried.
"Then you will not go at all. I am sorry, there is no help for it."
He kept his temper admirably, but none the less I felt that if we were to get past, it would be by force of arms, so, raising my voice, I called to Armand and Humphreys who were still keeping guard at the foot of the stairs. In an instant they came bounding up, and Henri, polite to the last, exclaimed, "As you will, cousin, but remember I am not to blame."
The next instant we were in the thick of the fight. By the accident of position Raoul was opposed to Henri; Pillot, with three companions, disputed the way with our friends below, while three others rushed fiercely at me. One, advancing too hurriedly, ran himself on the point of my sword, but the others pressed their assault so savagely that I had much ado to preserve my head from being battered in.
Once during the mêlée my foot slipped, and I was brought to my knees. A short, thick-set man, whom I dimly recognised as Pierre, stood over me with his club raised for striking. I saw him swing the weapon round so as to deliver a sturdier blow, when, with a howl of pain he let the club fall.
"Jump up, De Lalande! Where's our man? Ah, there he is! Get him between us and we will make a rush for it."
The speaker was John Humphreys, who had gallantly fought his way to my side, and was now keeping a clear space with his sword. Peleton stood just above us, shivering with fear, and I must admit that his position was far from pleasant. His arms were still bound, so that he could not ward off a blow, and one brawny ruffian was making desperate efforts to reach him.
Suddenly there arose a terrible cry, sending a thrill of fear to our hearts. The staircase was on fire! Armand called to us to descend quickly; Pillot screamed to his master. My assailants, thoroughly cowed, beat a hasty retreat, Raoul and Henri alone, undisturbed by the cries, continued the deadly fight.
"Run, Humphreys," I cried, "and do not let this fellow slip away when he reaches the bottom."
The Englishman nodded, and dashed off, while I turned to Peleton.
"Come," I said, "or you will be burned to death," but he stood like a statue. He seemed numbed by fear and unable to move a step, until I shook him roughly. Then he roused himself and let me lead him.
As we came abreast of my cousin, I saw him fall, wounded, but could not go to his help. Peleton's nerves had broken down, and without me to lean on he must have stumbled. The flames took a firmer hold, the heat became intense, the smoke was suffocating. I called Raoul by name; he answered cheerily, bidding me not to lose Peleton.
One man, quickly followed by a second, sprang past me and hurried to the top of the staircase. It was Pillot with a trusty comrade, and the dwarf, recognising me, shouted some directions, which, unfortunately, I failed to understand. The smoke filled my nostrils, I began to suffocate, but staggered on blindly, dragging Peleton with me. Below us the stairs had begun to burn—soon they would fall with a crash.
And where was Raoul? Why was my gallant friend not by my side? Had Pillot slain his master's enemy in the confusion? I endeavoured to call again, but only a dull, choking sound came from my throat. The horror of the situation gave me superhuman strength. I dragged Peleton from step to step, caring nothing for smoke or flames; if the fire scorched my feet I felt no pain.
Suddenly two figures sprang toward me; they were Armand and John Humphreys, and together we hurried Peleton into one of the lower rooms which the flames had not reached.
"Attend to him," I cried, "don't let him escape," and ran swiftly to the staircase, but Armand was as quick as I, and as I mounted the first step he pulled me back.
"Where are you going?" he demanded, and his tone was stern and peremptory.
"To seek for Raoul. Quick, let me go, or I shall be too late."
In reply he tightened his hold on my arm, exclaiming, "It is utterly useless, Albert, the staircase will be down in a few seconds, you will only throw your life away."
I begged and prayed him to release me, but he clung the more strenuously for my appeals, till at last I struggled like a madman to get loose. The steadfast fellow, however, kept his grip, and I could not fling him off.
In the very midst of the struggle came the sound of a terrific crash, and a broad tongue of flame leaped up to the roof of the building. Then Armand freed my arms; against my will he had saved me from a terrible death—the staircase had fallen in bodily.
"Poor Raoul!" exclaimed my companion sorrowfully, but the lump in my throat prevented me from making any reply. I could only stand and stare at the burning débris which formed the funeral pile of my gallant comrade.
By this time the flames had attracted a number of people, who ran from all directions to gaze at the spectacle. Armand brought me back to my senses by saying, "We must make sure of Peleton, Albert, or he will escape."
"Humphreys will guard him while you fetch a coach," I said, "then drive him straight to Condé."
"And you?"
"I shall stay here till—till——"
"I understand. We will escort this fellow to the Hotel de Condé, and then return."
My passion had exhausted itself by now; I could only stand bewailing the loss of my trusty friend. Meanwhile the crowd increased; soldiers appeared on the scene; men dashed buckets of water on the fire; some seized burning pieces of wood and flung them into the street where they could do no more mischief.
I toiled with the rest, and gradually we got the flames under, but there was no sign of Raoul's body. One man we found was quite dead, and no one recognised him. What had become of the others? Some had dashed down the stairway in front of me, but I had left Raoul and Henri, Pillot and his companion, nearly at the top. Where were they, if not buried beneath the smouldering débris of the fallen staircase?
Presently a roar of excitement came from the people behind me, and glancing towards the astrologer's house I beheld a man, hatless, bleeding, and scorched by the hungry flames, rush into the street.
A hubbub of voices at once arose.
"Bravo, monsieur!"
"That's one who was in the house!"
"He has saved one man's life!"
"See, his face is cut!"
At sight of him my heart for a moment stood still; then I called aloud "Raoul!" and, scattering the people right and left, ran, frantic with joy, toward the friend I had never again expected to meet alive.
"Raoul!" I cried, "Raoul! Where have you been? I thought you were in the burning house!"
"There was your cousin to save," he answered simply, flushing like a girl.
"You risked your life to save his?"
"Pshaw! I could not leave him to die like a rat. Then Pillot came with one of his fellows and we carried him through the secret passage into the next house."
"Is he seriously hurt?"
"I am afraid so; though Pillot calls his wound a scratch. But what of Peleton? Has he escaped?"
"No! He is safe in the Hotel de Condé by now. D'Arçy and Humphreys took him there in a coach. But come, let us get away from this crowd, and visit the surgeon in the Rue Pierre. It is quite time your wounds were attended to."
"It is scarcely worth the trouble; I can have that done at the Luxembourg."
However, I managed to persuade him, and the surgeon, a man whom I had met more than once at the Palais Royal, bathed his wounds, applied some ointment, and lent him a hat. He was a wise man and asked no questions, though no doubt he learned in the morning all that he wished to know.
Leaving the house we walked to the end of the street, when Raoul stopped, saying, "You had better not go any farther with me; Condé will be expecting you."
"To-morrow will do," I replied, and we were still discussing the point when Armand and the Englishman suddenly made their appearance.
I need not describe their joyful surprise on perceiving Raoul, whom both believed to be dead. John Humphreys did not make a great display of his feelings—he rarely did—but Armand clapped Raoul on the shoulder and executed a lively dance.
"Where is Peleton?" I asked, when he had sobered down.
"In the Bastille by now, I expect. Condé is delighted; he will learn all about the plot within twenty-four hours. I never saw such a coward as Peleton!"
"The fellow isn't worth powder!" exclaimed Humphreys in disgust.
"Anyhow there is an end to De Retz's scheming," I remarked cheerfully, but Raoul shook his head.
"The Abbé can take care of himself," said he; "you will find that Peleton has no proof against him. It is your cousin who will suffer."
"I thought Henri was killed on the staircase'" cried Armand.
"No, he was wounded, but we managed to convey him along a secret passage, of which Pillot knew, into Martin's house. He is a bold rascal! I shall feel quite sorry if he falls into Condé's clutches. Did the prince question you, Armand?"
"No, he was too much occupied with Peleton, but he intends sending for Albert in a day or two. You will be wearing his livery soon, my friend!" said he, turning to me.
"Not likely!" I replied laughing. "Remember I am still a Mazarin!"
Humphreys and I accompanied our friends some distance on their way, and then turned off in the direction of the Palais Royal. We did not talk much, for I was tired and sleepy, but I thanked the Englishman for the gallant part he had played in Peleton's capture. Indeed, without his assistance I question if the adventure would have ended so successfully.
Remembering Armand's remarks, I remained in the house the whole of the next day, in case Condé should send a message; but it was not until the third evening after the fight that one of his gentlemen appeared with a request that I would go immediately to the Hôtel de Condé. The prince received me graciously, and, indeed, he displayed a very winning manner when it suited his purpose.
"Well, M. de Lalande," he exclaimed, "you have kept your promise, and Monsieur Peleton is occupying your old cell in the Bastille. Do you know, I fancy he is rather pleased at leaving his late quarters?"
"I can well believe that, your Highness! He does not like being on the losing side. But I hope he has made it quite plain that I had nothing to do with the conspiracy?"
"He has told me everything in his power. By the way, De Lalande, that cousin of yours must be a very daring fellow!"
"My cousin Henri, your Highness?" said I, with a start of surprise.
"Yes, the man who carried the plot through! De Retz has an able lieutenant in him. Oh, come, do not look so astonished. You must have guessed the truth, and now there is no need for concealment. Peleton's evidence is sufficient to bring your cousin's head to the block. But I bear him no ill-will, and he can still save himself."
"How, your Highness?"
"You are a clever lad," said the prince, "and honest, as far as honesty goes in these days. You are from the country, I believe?"
"Yes, your Highness," I answered, really surprised now.
"And have enjoyed many a good day's fishing, I warrant? Ah, I see you have. Have you ever gone out with the determination to hook one particularly big fish?"
"Why, yes," I replied, laughing, and quite at my ease. "I remember an old trout, a regular monster, that I could never catch, though I tried often enough. He was a wily fellow and would not take the bait."
"But you landed others?"
"A good many, your Highness, though they did not make up for the one I missed."
"Then you can understand my feelings, De Lalande. I have been angling a long time for a very wily fish, but I cannot get him on my hook; and the lesser ones are not worth catching. They are useful only as bait."
Now I began to perceive the prince's drift. The big fish was, of course, De Retz, who so skilfully avoided capture; Peleton only ranked as one of the smaller fry.
After a time, Condé, who had been watching my face closely, spoke more plainly.
"M. de Lalande," he began, "I am going to ask you a question. Will you take service with me?"
"You do me great honour, your Highness, but it is impossible. I have pledged my word to Cardinal Mazarin."
"His power is gone."
"Which seems to me all the more reason why I should stand by him, your Highness. A fallen man has the most need of friends."
"And obtains few. However, I will not attempt to persuade you, but there is one matter in which it may suit your interest to serve us. Would you like to see your cousin led out to execution?"
"By no means, your Highness! He played me a nasty trick, 'tis true, but I am sure he had no hand in Maubranne's scheme."
"Very well. I will speak plainly to you. This Peleton has told me all he knows. His confession is sufficient to bring your cousin to the block, but it is not enough for my purpose. It strikes at the second man and leaves the first untouched. Now, I would much prefer that it should be the other way, and in this you can assist me."
"I will enter into no schemes to entrap my cousin, your Highness."
"No, no!" answered the prince pettishly; "you mistake my meaning. I want you to go to him from me, privately. Make him aware that Peleton has confessed and his own head is in danger. Do you understand?"
"So far, your Highness."
"The rest is simple. He can save his life if he chooses, by adding to Peleton's confession. If he will not do this he must take the consequences."
"Your Highness has made a mistake," I answered coldly. "Henri de Lalande is not another Peleton. He will not purchase his life on these terms."
Condé laughed and exclaimed, "At least you can offer him the chance. Find out where he is hiding and deliver my message. Then he can please himself."
Although feeling sure that Henri would refuse to avail himself of Condé's offer, I allowed myself to be persuaded, and, before leaving the house, agreed to report to my cousin what the prince had said.
I soon discovered that the promise was easier to make than to fulfil. Henri had vanished, and on all hands I heard rumour of his death. So steady and persistent was the report that even Marie and her aunt, on whom I called the next day, believed it.
"It is quite true," Madame Coutance declared. "De Retz has offered up prayers for the repose of his soul, which he would hardly venture to do if he believed your cousin was still alive. I met Madame de Chevreuse last night and she informed me that the Abbé is disconsolate."
I did not argue the point, though in my own mind I concluded that De Retz was a very clever schemer, and that these reports of Henri's death were circulated in order to deceive Condé.
In the afternoon I paid a visit to the astrologer's house, and by dint of bribing the porter gained admittance. Fortunately for the learned Martin the fire had not reached his rooms, though some parts of the buildings were damaged. The philosopher received me very affably, and spoke in feeling terms of my cousin's illness, but when I asked if Henri would see me the wily old fellow regarded me with the utmost astonishment.
"M. de Lalande is not here!" he observed. "Did you not know? How strange! Why, he had left before D'Artagnan arrived with his musketeers to search the house. It appears that your cousin has offended Condé, or the Duke of Orleans, or some powerful person, and is in danger of being imprisoned."
"It is said in the city that he is dead."
"Dead? I hope not, but in his weak state the hurried flight may easily have proved fatal. The soldiers were sent to arrest him, but his faithful servant, by some means, heard of their coming, and smuggled his master out just in time."
"Pillot?"
"Yes, he is a trusty fellow."
"Where was my cousin taken?"
"Pillot did not trust me with his secret," said the astrologer, smiling blandly, "and I have not seen him since."
"But you can guess where he is to be found?"
"Indeed, I have not the least notion, monsieur," and the bland smile became still more bland, "but as to the rumour of your cousin's death I would fain hope that it is not true."
Remembering the nature of my last visit with Mazarin to this house, I placed small faith in Martin's remarks, but as it was clearly impossible to obtain any further information I took my leave, resolving to discover for myself what really had become of Henri. Raoul joined me in the search, but for a long time our efforts were fruitless. It became, indeed, difficult not to believe in my cousin's death. Many even of Condé's friends accepted the report as true, while the Abbé's henchmen openly mourned the loss of their brilliant leader. Still I was not entirely satisfied, especially as no trace could be found of Pillot.
During one of our expeditions we came across Pierre and François, the one grim and hostile, the other smiling and communicative.
"Monsieur is right," replied François in answer to my questioning, "M. de Lalande did leave the astrologer's house; I helped to carry him. He was ill—dying, I think. We took him to a safe place. Pillot stayed to nurse him and I left them. He instructed me to go because the soldiers were watching."
"Could you show us this house?" I asked.
"Monsieur would have his journey in vain. M. de Lalande is not there now. Pillot took him, or his dead body, away in a carriage."
"Where is Pillot now?"
"Ah! monsieur asks a question! Perhaps he is dead too! I have not seen him since."
For a moderate consideration François agreed to point out the haunts which his former ally had been in the habit of frequenting. Such dens of vice and misery, where crime, starvation, and disease went hand in hand, I had never beheld. I wondered how any one could live in such noisome places even for a day. The sufferings of the people were terrible; a dreadful pestilence mowed them down in scores. Small marvel that a clever agitator like De Retz could obtain hundreds of willing tools ready for any act of bloodshed and violence.
Always hungry, always in filth and rags, scarred and disfigured by disease, their numbers decimated many times over by an ever-present plague, what could they know of the sanctity of life? Death walked and talked with them continually; a familiar guest, eating and drinking by their side like a trusty comrade—feared by none, welcomed by many. But for François we should never have left these dens alive.
With all our care and trouble we could obtain no information. My cousin had vanished so completely that I gradually became convinced of his death, and an accidental meeting with De Retz confirmed me in this belief.
Coming one day from the neighbourhood of Notre Dame, I met the Abbé face to face. He stopped involuntarily and his face became white.
"De Lalande?" he gasped. "De Lalande? Is it possible?"
"Albert de Lalande," I said.
"Ah," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief, "Henri's cousin! I had forgotten you, and it is a shock to one's nerves to meet a dead man in the flesh."
"Is my cousin really dead, monsieur?"
"Ma foi! What a question! Why do you ask?"
"Because I imagined the report had been spread about to deceive Condé."
"No," he replied, showing no offence at my remark, "I would it were so, but M. Beauchamp's sword bit deeply. Pillot should have informed you, but he has had much to do. He has taken his master's body home for burial. I feel his loss greatly. Your cousin was an admirable man, and I shall never find his equal. But what of yourself? Have you taken service with Condé?"
"No, monsieur, I still fight for the Throne."
"And for Albert de Lalande! Well, well, as long as you steer clear of me I wish you no harm."
"Monsieur is pleased to be gracious," I returned with a mocking bow. "I am indeed grateful."
The little rogue's eyes twinkled brightly, and he went away laughing.
So Henri was really dead and laid to rest in the family vault! I could no longer question the truth of the rumour after seeing the Abbé's face when he met me. It was certain that he, at least, believed my cousin was dead and buried. Even Raoul could not shake me on this point, though he rather scoffed at the story.
"It is a trick to deceive Condé," he said. "If Henri is dead, where is Pillot?"
"He has taken the body home."
"Chut! The tale is a pack of lies. The Abbé is keeping your cousin in hiding till Condé has lost his power. Have you heard that he is going to accuse the prince of high treason?"
"De Retz?"
"Yes, to-morrow in open court at the Palais de Justice. There are likely to be warm doings, and it is my belief if De Retz wins your cousin Henri will soon come to life."
That night I wandered about the city by myself. Raoul and Armand were with the troops in the Luxembourg; John Humphreys was at his post in the Palais Royal; the gates of both palaces were closed and barred, for no one knew what an hour would bring forth. The night passed quietly, but, as soon as the dawn broke, bands of armed men, in the pay of De Retz, moved down on the Palais de Justice, swarming into the halls and galleries and seizing the best positions. The crowd outside rapidly increased to enormous numbers, and very soon cries of "Down with Condé" were heard.
About an hour after De Retz put in an appearance loud shouts announced the coming of the prince. He rode haughtily at the head of some two thousand fighting men, who marched afoot with their hands on their swords, and apparently quite ready to use them. I was standing near the gate as Condé passed, and to my surprise he beckoned me toward him.
"Has your search failed?" he asked.
"Yes, your Highness. According to all accounts my cousin is dead, and I am sure De Retz thinks so."
"Why do you say that?" he asked quickly. "Come with me; it is important that I should have the latest news."
Accordingly we walked together along the corridor, which was filled with armed men, and so into the Parliament Hall, Condé listening with deep attention to the story of my chance meeting with De Retz.
"Ah!" he exclaimed thoughtfully, "that will account for more than one strange incident," and leaving me he took his seat in the assembly.
I was too far off to hear the speeches, but there was tremendous excitement, and I think everyone was expecting the meeting to end in bloodshed. Better sense, however, prevailed; Condé sent a nobleman to ask his friends to withdraw, and De Retz went with a similar message to his own retainers. Then something happened which threatened to undo all the good. Condé's messenger getting back first shut the door, and when the Abbé knocked, opened it only a little way. As De Retz endeavoured to squeeze through, the nobleman caught and fixed him between the two halves, at the same time calling to his friends to kill the Abbé.
It was a critical moment, as the first blow would have been the signal for a fierce fight, yet I could hardly refrain from laughing at the spectacle. The little man's head and shoulders were within the hall, and the rest of his body was outside, while he could not stir an inch. Happily no blow was struck, as one of Condé's captains, crying "Shame!" ran forward, and two or three of us nearest the door managed to extricate the Abbé from his awkward situation.
"Thank you, gentlemen," he exclaimed; "I am glad there are some men of honour in the prince's train," and he passed to his seat as if nothing unusual had happened.
"There will be no more trouble to-day," said a man close to me; and he was right, but Paris had only just missed another revolution.
The incident at the Palais de Justice somewhat sobered the Parisians, and for several days the city presented quite an unusual appearance of peace. Once more the mob retired to its own quarters, and the nobles of the different parties renewed their private friendships.
By this time I had abandoned my search for Henri, and spent most of my time with Raoul and Armand d'Arçy, or with John Humphreys.
One evening while chatting with the Englishman at the Palais Royal, Le Tellier, the Under Minister, passed by.
"Are you not M. de Lalande?" he asked, turning and looking hard into my face.
Now, coming from him, this was a very stupid question, as, when Mazarin ruled in Paris, Le Tellier had often seen me with the Cardinal. However, I shrugged my shoulders, and answered carelessly that he made no mistake.
"I believe you are in the Queen's service?" he continued.
"It is an office without salary, then," I answered, thinking of my nearly empty purse, which was not likely to wear out through the rubbing of coins against it.
"Tut, tut!" he exclaimed, "money is not plentiful at Court just now; nevertheless you will be amply rewarded. Come with me, I have a word for you," and he led me aside.
Wondering at his manner, but glad of a chance to do something, I waited for him to speak.
"You are aware," he began, "that, in two days from this, the King is to be declared of age, and that he will proceed in state to the Parliament House?"
"Certainly, monsieur, that is common talk; the citizens are very pleased."
"Those who are peacefully disposed!" he exclaimed; then, sinking his voice to a whisper, he added, "but there are some still eager for mischief. It would be a pity if a tumult should arise during the King's progress. The soldiers, fortunately, can be depended on, but in addition, we require a band of gallant gentlemen to line the route. Can I rely on you for one?"
"Assuredly," I replied, "I shall be glad to assist."
"Then come to me at midnight to-morrow, and I will inform you where to station yourself."
"Another adventure?" inquired Humphreys, when I returned to him.
"Pouf! A bagatelle, nothing more! Le Tellier is anxious that I should have a good view of the procession. You will accompany the Queen, I suppose?"
"The orders have not yet been issued. It is a good idea this of declaring the King of age; though he is only a youngster."
"Fourteen," I said. "It is understood that his mother will continue to rule as before."
"Just so. But in the King's name. Don't you see that it will cut the ground from under the feet of her enemies? While they would plot against the Regent, they will not dare to raise arms against the King. I call it a very sensible proceeding. People will have to choose sides now, either with the King or with his foes. If Condé and De Retz do not submit, they will be rebels. They must either obey or defy the King, and we shall have a plain issue."
"It will keep Mazarin out, though."
"Quite so. If I were you I should obtain a post under the young King."
This was sensible advice, but considering myself still in Mazarin's employ, I decided to let the matter wait a while longer. Perhaps I might even yet hear from Belloc.
On the morning of the eventful day I took my place, by Le Tellier's orders, about a hundred yards from the gates of the Palais de Justice. Other cavaliers, well armed, were stationed at short intervals along the line of route, making little show, but ready at any moment to pounce on any one endeavouring to stir up strife.
As it chanced, Le Tellier's precautions were not required. There was a tremendous crowd, but the people were in the best of humour, and amused themselves by shouting "Vive le Roi!" with all their might. They cheered for the Queen-Mother as well, and, listening to them, one would have thought Paris the most loyal city under the sun.
"Ma foi!" exclaimed the cavalier on my right, "it is wonderful; but how long will it last?"
"Till the show is over most likely. The citizens love a pretty spectacle, no matter who provides it."
Round after round of cheering announced the approach of the procession, which was on the most magnificent scale. After a body of trumpeters came fifty guides clothed in the Royal livery, and then eight hundred gorgeously dressed nobles on horseback.
I felt a passing pang of envy at sight of the nobleman who led the Light Horse. His robe was of gold embroidery, and he carried his sword in a baldrick of pearls. In his hat waved a splendid plume of feathers, and the trappings of his white horse were of scarlet adorned with pearls. The spectators could not contain themselves, but clapped their hands and cried "Bravo!" vigorously.
After the Light Horse came the Hundred Swiss in their romantic costume, and then a crowd of gentlemen, followed by the marshals of France—one carrying the King's sword, with the scabbard resting on his arm. Then a thundering roar broke out, and the people appeared beside themselves with delight.
"Live the King!" they cried. "God bless him!" "God save his Majesty!"
I craned my neck as eagerly as any other sightseer, as our youthful monarch approached. He was truly a handsome boy, and managed his fiery horse with the grace and skill of an accomplished rider.
"What a King he will be!" exclaimed one bystander. "He will bring back the glory to our country. Vive le Roi! Vive le Roi!" and again there was an outburst of cheering.
No one paid any attention to the princes and nobles following him; all the cheers were for the King and the King alone.
I observed Raoul ride by, and presently John Humphreys appeared with the guards who surrounded the Queen's carriage. Raoul was smiling, for, like a true Parisian, he enjoyed a pretty show, but the Englishman strode along as if he had a mind to be done with the business. Just as he was on a level with me I received a great surprise. On the other side of the road a little man had pushed himself right into the front line of spectators, and was gazing anxiously up and down as if expecting to recognise some one.
"Why, surely," I said, half aloud, "that is my old acquaintance, Pillot!" and, looking a second time I became sure of it.
The dwarf seemed ill at ease, and altogether unlike his usual self. His face, too, was white and pinched, as if he had been suffering from a severe illness.
"Parbleu!" I muttered, "one would not think he had but just returned from the country! Perhaps he missed the air of Paris! Anyhow, I am glad he is back, as now I shall learn the truth as to my cousin's death. When the procession is gone by I will beckon to him to come over."
At that moment Pillot caught sight of me; he became more nervous than before, and to my astonishment instantly began edging back into the crowd till he was lost to view. Now this curious behaviour set me thinking. Why should Pillot endeavour to get out of my way? Was he afraid that I should hand him over to Condé? Certainly he had been mixed up in the plot, but so had Pierre and François, and the prince had not thought it worth while to imprison either of them.
"There is some mystery about this which I must look into!" I muttered. "Pillot is not the man to slink away without reason."
For the time, however, I could do nothing, but as soon as the King returned to the Palais Royal I began an eager but unavailing search for the dwarf. He had disappeared completely, and there was no trace of him anywhere.
In the evening Raoul and John Humphreys met at my rooms and I informed them of my discovery. The Englishman thought little of it, saying Pillot was likely to keep out of my way, but Raoul, like myself, fancied he had some reason for his strange behaviour.
"The fellow isn't afraid for himself," he declared. "He knows Condé will not touch him, and besides, he is a plucky rascal. Depend on it, there is something beneath this business, and I should guess it has to do with Henri de Lalande."
"But my cousin is dead and buried!" I objected.
"Chut! You have no proof of it. He may be in hiding for what we know, and waiting his opportunity. According to all accounts, he will soon have little to fear from Condé."
"The prince is lost," exclaimed Humphreys. "Did you notice he stayed away to-day? It is rumoured in the palace that the Queen is furious, and that there is to be no more giving quarter. Condé will be an outlaw before long."
"And it is my belief," remarked Raoul, "that when Condé goes, Henri will reappear. Still, if you wish, Albert, we will help you to find Pillot."
"The worst of it is I have not the faintest idea where to look."
"We can try the house in the Rue de Roi."
"The walk will do us good," said Humphreys, "and I am off duty till midnight;" so, putting on our hats, we went into the street.
Paris was holding high holiday that evening. The buildings were decorated with flags and streamers; bonfires cast a lurid light on the animated scene; crowds of people went to and fro, laughing merrily and cheering the nobles and ladies who rode by in their gorgeous carriages. The spell of the morning was on them all; and though many realised that the troubles would soon break out more fiercely than ever, every one seemed bent on making the most of the brief truce.
"You Parisians are a remarkable set!" exclaimed Humphreys as we walked along; "I believe you would dance on the edge of a mine."
"Till the explosion occurred!" laughed Raoul. "Did you notice the folks in that carriage, Albert? One was your friend Lautrec; he still follows Condé's fortunes. Ah! there goes Marshal Turenne!"
"A fine general!" remarked Humphreys. "Why doesn't the Queen give him the command of the army? He would make short work of Condé."
"Wait till the prince draws the sword," said Raoul, "and we shall see. Have you forgotten that at present we are all friends?"
The Englishman declared it was scarcely worth remembering, as, in a day or two, we were just as likely to be enemies, and I thought there was a considerable amount of truth in his remark.
We wandered along slowly, chatting together, but scanning the faces of the passers-by and keeping a sharp look-out for Pillot. There was, however, no sign of him, and I had just suggested going straight to the inn, when Raoul, suddenly taking a man by the arm, exclaimed, "François? How lucky! Why, you are just the fellow we want!" and turning round I saw that he was addressing the amiable spy of the Rue Crillon.
François gazed at us with a beaming smile. He was not a bad-hearted fellow, and bore no malice in spite of all that had passed.
"Where are your friends?" asked Raoul. "You should not be alone on such a night as this. Where have you left Pillot?"
"Pillot?" echoed François wonderingly. "I have not seen him for weeks; he is in the country somewhere."
"Oh, now, François, you are making fun of us! We know that our friend Pillot is in Paris."
"Monsieur is wiser than I, then!" replied François. "They say, down in our quarter, that he went to bury his master and has not returned. I assure monsieur that not one of his old friends has set eyes on him for a long time past."
The man spoke so straightforwardly that even Raoul believed he was telling the truth, though it seemed strange, if Pillot were really back again, that none of his acquaintances should be aware of it. Why had he kept himself hidden all this time?
"We want to find him," said Raoul after a pause, "but not to do him any injury. Suppose he has returned to Paris—if he ever went away—where is he most likely to be? I assure you, François, that he has nothing to fear from us."
"I cannot tell, monsieur. I think you must have made a mistake. If he were inside the walls I should have seen him. He has not been back to any of his usual haunts."
Evidently there was no information to be obtained from François, so Raoul gave him some money and let him go.
"Perhaps the fellow was right in saying you had made a mistake," remarked Humphreys, but this I would not admit. Not only had I seen Pillot, but he had recognised me.
"Let us try at La Boule d'Or," Raoul suggested, "and, if that is useless, we will not bother any further. After all, it really is of small consequence one way or the other."
The famous inn was crowded as usual, but Raoul conducted us to a private room, where, in a few minutes, we were joined by the landlord. He remembered me immediately, and began to speak of the trick I had played on the dwarf.
"We have come to meet Pillot," interrupted Raoul playing a bold game; "tell him we are here."
"But, monsieur, it is impossible! He is not in my house. He has been here only once since monsieur tied him up. It would not be a safe place for him. Besides, I have heard that he is no longer in Paris. Monsieur can search the place himself if he wishes. At the present, the inn is empty of guests. Two friends of the prince have been staying here, but they departed yesterday."
"And all your rooms are free?"
"That is so. Monsieur is at liberty to search the house."
"Come," said Raoul to us, "we are not likely to discover anything, but we shall feel more satisfied perhaps."
Taking a candle the landlord led the way, and we tramped after him, searching every room. Raoul knew the house thoroughly, so that nothing escaped us, and we were bound to admit that Pillot was not in the inn. Leaving us outside, Raoul entered the public rooms, but he could neither find the dwarf nor gain any information of him, and at last we departed, my comrades feeling more than half inclined to believe that my eyes had deceived me.
However, as Raoul said, I should gain little even by finding Pillot. If my cousin still lived—which I sincerely hoped—he could not be in much danger from Condé. Beneath all the gaiety and merriment of that night, it was easy to observe the shadow of coming trouble, and, indeed, before many days had passed Paris was again in a state of turmoil.
Condé was almost openly in rebellion: the country trembled on the brink of civil war; of authority there was none save in the strong hand; every man did that which seemed right in his own eyes. Bands of armed ruffians paraded the streets, robbing and murdering as they pleased; the soldiers quarrelled among themselves; the nobles fought in the public places, unsheathing their swords even in the Parliament House. Thoroughly wearied of this meaningless strife, I longed for a strong man, such as our present most gracious King has proved, who should whip these snarling dogs back to their kennels.
One evening I sat at my window looking into the street below. The inhabitants of the Rue des Catonnes were having fine doings. From one end to the other they swarmed—a heaving mass of excited humanity. It was plain that a crisis had arrived. Paris was in rebellion, but against whom or what not one in a thousand knew or cared. For the moment the people were masters, and they made the most of their opportunity.
I watched their antics in amazement. Costly furniture, handsome brocades, rich tapestry and gorgeous hangings littered the street. Grimy, unwashed ruffians swaggered about in clothes costly with lace, and plumed hats, some even carrying swords. They were in the merriest humour imaginable, but I knew well that a chance word might change their mirth into madness.
"They have plundered some nobleman's house," I muttered. "I wonder who the victim is?"
I was still sitting at the window when the tramp of horses' feet sounded in the distance, and presently D'Artagnan appeared at the end of the street with a body of cavalry. For a minute or two it seemed as if the rioters would oppose his progress, but, having no leader, and perhaps being in no mood for a fight, they began to slink away by ones and twos into the houses. A few lingered half defiantly, but obtaining no support from their fellows, they also disappeared, and not a blow was struck as the soldiers rode through the street.
"Bravo!" I exclaimed, "the mischief may be stamped out yet. I wonder if the other quarters are quiet," and, buckling on my sword, I crossed the room just as a man in dishevelled dress rushed panting up the stairs.
I gazed at my unexpected visitor in amazement and rubbed my eyes. Were they playing me false? No! It was Pillot sure enough, and he was gasping for breath. Why had he come to me?
"Just in time, monsieur," he stammered as he leaned against the wall to recover.
"What is it?" I exclaimed. "What do you want? Quick, I am in a hurry."
"Wait, monsieur. Listen; you must! I ran all the way to the Rue Crillon, but you were not there."
"The Rue Crillon?" I interrupted, thinking of Madame Coutance and Marie. "Is anything the matter there? Are the ladies in danger?"
"No, no," he answered impatiently. "No one will harm them. They are as safe as at Aunay. It is of your cousin. He calls for you, monsieur; he is dying—and alone! Come with me, monsieur, quick! I must return at once; he may be dead!"
"A truce to this mummery," I said sternly. "What new trick is this? Do you imagine I am to be trapped a second time? My cousin is dead and buried; the Abbé himself told me."
Pillot gazed at me in blank despair. His face was white, his lips twitched nervously, his words came with a sob.
"It is false, monsieur, false. I deceived the Abbé as I deceived all for my master's sake. I spread about the story of his death; I tricked De Retz because he could not be trusted. To save his own life he would have thrown your cousin to the wolves. It is each for himself, nowadays, monsieur. I wormed out their plots: they could not deceive Pillot. De Retz is a clever schemer, but the biggest rogues make mistakes. He believed my tale, and so did Condé. Only one man besides myself and M. de Lalande knew the truth, and I was obliged to trust him. As to your cousin I have guarded him against all comers; I have nursed him day and night; I have tricked the soldiers, but now the end is come. Prince and priest are welcome to the secret now."
"But what do you wish me to do?" I asked suspiciously.
"To soothe your cousin's last moments, monsieur; to close his eyes in death. He calls for you always."
If Pillot was playing a part, he was indeed a superb actor. Yet still I hesitated, so intense was the distrust with which in these days each regarded his neighbour.
"Do you doubt me, monsieur?" he asked. "Do I plead for the dying in vain? This is no trick. Why should I deceive you? We have been on opposite sides, but we have played the game fairly. I have even gone out of my way to serve you. It was I who sent the note warning you against our own trap."
"And saved my life after I had blundered into it!"
The dwarf watched my face as if his own life depended on my decision.
"Pillot," I said at length, "I will trust you. But, if you deceive me, so surely as you stand there I will run you through with my sword."
"Monsieur is welcome in any case," he answered, "if only he will come at once."