The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
for the grimaces of the two knaves thus bidden to jest if they would save
their skins, were so diverting they would have made a nun laugh. They
looked at me with their eyes as wide as plates, and for the whole of the
time of grace never a word could they utter save howls for mercy. "Simon,"
I said gravely, when the time was up, "have you a joke? No. Andrew, my
friend, have you a joke? No. Then--"
I was going on to order the sentence to be carried out, when the innkeeper
flung himself again upon his knees, and cried out loudly--as much to my
astonishment as to the regret of the bystanders, who were bent on seeing
so strange a shoeing feat--"One word, my lord; I can give you no joke, but
I can do a service, an eminent service to the king. I can disclose a
conspiracy!"
I was somewhat taken aback by this sudden and public announcement. But I
had been too long in the king's employment not to have remarked how
strangely things are brought to light. On hearing the man's words
therefore--which were followed by a stricken silence--I looked sharply at
the faces of such of those present as it was possible to suspect, but
failed to observe any sign of confusion or dismay, or anything more
particular than so abrupt a statement was calculated to produce. Doubting
much whether the man was not playing with me, I addressed him sternly,
warning him to beware, lest in his anxiety to save his heels by falsely
accusing others, he should lose his head. For that if his conspiracy
should prove to be an invention of his own, I should certainly consider it
my duty to hang him forthwith.
He heard me out, but nevertheless persisted in his story, adding
desperately, "It is a plot, my lord, to assassinate you and the king on
the same day."
This statement struck me a blow; for I had good reason to know that at
that time the king had alienated many by his infatuation for Madame de
Verneuil; while I had always to reckon firstly with all who hated him, and
secondly with all whom my pursuit of his interests injured, either in
reality or appearance. I therefore immediately directed that the prisoners
should be led in close custody to the chamber adjoining my private closet,
and taking the precaution to call my guards about me, since I knew not
what attempt despair might not breed, I withdrew myself, making such
apologies to the company as the nature of the case permitted.
I ordered Simon the smith to be first brought to me, and in the presence
of Maignan only, I severely examined him as to his knowledge of any
conspiracy. He denied, however, that he had ever heard of the matters
referred to by his brother, and persisted so firmly in the denial that I
was inclined to believe him. In the end he was taken out and Andrew was
brought in. The innkeeper's demeanor was such as I have often observed in
intriguers brought suddenly to book. He averred the existence of the
conspiracy, and that its objects were those which he had stated. He also
offered to give up his associates, but conditioned that he should do this
in his own way; undertaking to conduct me and one other person--but no
more, lest the alarm should be given--to a place in Paris on the following
night, where we could hear the plotters state their plans and designs. In
this way only, he urged, could proof positive be obtained.
I was much startled by this proposal, and inclined to think it a trap; but
further consideration dispelled my fears. The innkeeper had held no parley
with anyone save his guards and myself since his arrest, and could neither
have warned his accomplices, nor acquainted them with any design the
execution of which should depend on his confession to me. I therefore
accepted his terms--with a private reservation that I should have help at
hand--and before daybreak next morning left Rosny, which I had only seen
by torchlight, with my prisoner and a select body of Swiss. We entered
Paris in the afternoon in three parties, with as little parade as
possible, and went straight to the Arsenal, whence, as soon as evening
fell, I hurried with only two armed attendants to the Louvre.
A return so sudden and unexpected was as great a surprise to the court as
to the king, and I was not slow to mark with an inward smile the
discomposure which appeared very clearly on the faces of several, as the
crowd in the chamber fell back for me to approach my master. I was
careful, however, to remember that this might arise from other causes than
guilt. The king received me with his wonted affection; and divining at
once that I must have something important to communicate, withdrew with me
to the farther end of the chamber, where we were out of earshot of the
court. I there related the story to his majesty, keeping back nothing.
He shook his head, saying merely: "The fish to escape the frying pan,
grand master, will jump into the fire. And human nature, save in the case
of you and me, who can trust one another, is very fishy."
I was touched by this gracious compliment, but not convinced. "You have
not seen the man, sire," I said, "and I have had that advantage."
"And believe him?"
"In part," I answered with caution. "So far at least as to be assured that
he thinks to save his skin, which he will only do if he be telling the
truth. May I beg you, sire," I added hastily, seeing the direction of his
glance, "not to look so fixedly at the Duke of Epernon? He grows uneasy."
"Conscience makes--you know the rest."
"Nay, sire, with submission," I replied, "I will answer for him; if he be
not driven by fear to do something reckless."
"Good! I take your warranty, Duke of Sully," the king said, with the easy
grace which came so natural to him. "But now in this matter what would you
have me do?"
"Double your guards, sire, for to-night--that is all. I will answer for
the Bastile and the Arsenal; and holding these we hold Paris."
But thereupon I found that the king had come to a decision, which I felt
it to be my duty to combat with all my influence. He had conceived the
idea of being the one to accompany me to the rendezvous. "I am tired of
the dice," he complained, "and sick of tennis, at which I know everybody's
strength. Madame de Verneuil is at Fontainebleau, the queen is unwell. Ah,
Sully, I would the old days were back when we had Nerac for our Paris, and
knew the saddle better than the armchair!"
"A king must think of his people," I reminded him.
"The fowl in the pot? To be sure. So I will--to-morrow," he replied. And
in the end he would be obeyed. I took my leave of him as if for the night,
and retired, leaving him at play with the Duke of Epernon. But an hour
later, toward eight o'clock, his majesty, who had made an excuse to
withdraw to his closet, met me outside the eastern gate of the Louvre.
He was masked, and attended only by Coquet, his master of the household. I
too wore a mask and was esquired by Maignan, under whose orders were four
Swiss--whom I had chosen because they were unable to speak
French--guarding the prisoner Andrew. I bade Maignan follow the
innkeeper's directions, and we proceeded in two parties through the
streets on the left bank of the river, past the Châtelet and Bastile,
until we reached an obscure street near the water, so narrow that the
decrepit wooden houses shut out well-nigh all view of the sky. Here the
prisoner halted and called upon me to fulfill the terms of my agreement. I
bade Maignan therefore to keep with the Swiss at a distance of fifty
paces, but to come up should I whistle or otherwise give the alarm; and
myself with the king and Andrew proceeded onward in the deep shadow of the
houses. I kept my hand on my pistol, which I had previously shown to the
prisoner, intimating that on the first sign of treachery I should blow out
his brains. However, despite precaution, I felt uncomfortable to the last
degree. I blamed myself severely for allowing the king to expose himself
and the country to this unnecessary danger; while the meanness of the
locality, the fetid air, the darkness of the night, which was wet and
tempestuous, and the uncertainty of the event lowered my spirits, and made
every splash in the kennel and stumble on the reeking, slippery
pavements--matters over which the king grew merry--seem no light troubles
to me.
Arriving at a house, which, if we might judge in the darkness, seemed to
be of rather greater pretensions than its fellows, our guide stopped, and
whispered to us to mount some steps to a raised wooden gallery, which
intervened between the lane and the doorway. On this, besides the door, a
couple of unglazed windows looked out. The shutter of one was ajar, and
showed us a large, bare room, lighted by a couple of rushlights. Directing
us to place ourselves close to this shutter, the innkeeper knocked at the
door in a peculiar fashion, and almost immediately entered, going at once
into the lighted room. Peering cautiously through the window we were
surprised to find that the only person within, save the newcomer, was a
young woman, who, crouching over a smoldering fire, was crooning a lullaby
while she attended to a large black pot.
"Good evening, mistress!" said the innkeeper, advancing to the fire with a
fair show of nonchalance.
"Good evening, Master Andrew," the girl replied, looking up and nodding,
but showing no sign of surprise at his appearance. "Martin is away, but he
may return at any moment."
"Is he still of the same mind?"
"Quite."
"And what of Sully? Is he to die then?" he asked.
"They have decided he must," the girl answered gloomily. It may be
believed that I listened with all my ears, while the king by a nudge in my
side seemed to rally me on the destiny so coolly arranged for me. "Martin
says it is no good killing the other unless he goes too--they have been so
long together. But it vexes me sadly, Master Andrew," she added with a
sudden break in her voice. "Sadly it vexes me. I could not sleep last
night for thinking of it, and the risk Martin runs. And I shall sleep less
when it is done."
"Pooh-pooh!" said that rascally innkeeper. "Think less about it. Things
will grow worse and worse if they are let live. The King has done harm
enough already. And he grows old besides."
"That is true!" said the girl. "And no doubt the sooner he is put out of
the way the better. He is changed sadly. I do not say a word for him. Let
him die. It is killing Sully that troubles me--that and the risk Martin
runs."
At this I took the liberty of gently touching the king. He answered by an
amused grimace; then by a motion of his hand he enjoined silence. We
stooped still farther forward so as better to command the room. The girl
was rocking herself to and fro in evident distress of mind. "If we killed
the King," she continued, "Martin declares we should be no better off, as
long as Sully lives. Both or neither, he says. But I do not know. I cannot
bear to think of it. It was a sad day when we brought Epernon here, Master
Andrew; and one I fear we shall rue as long as we live."
It was now the king's turn to be moved. He grasped my wrist so forcibly
that I restrained a cry with difficulty. "Epernon!" he whispered harshly
in my ear. "They are Epernon's tools! Where is your guaranty now, Rosny?"
I confess that I trembled. I knew well that the king, particular in small
courtesies, never forgot to call his servants by their correct titles,
save in two cases; when he indicated by the seeming error, as once in
Marshal Biron's affair, his intention to promote or degrade them; or when
he was moved to the depths of his nature and fell into an old habit. I did
not dare to reply, but listened greedily for more information.
"When is it to be done?" asked the innkeeper, sinking his voice and
glancing round, as if he would call especial attention to this.