The King's Warrant Part 11

With these instructions, Jasmin once more set out.

It had now become dark, and he found the quay a very long one. He had traversed nearly the whole length of it without coming upon the "Great Gun," when he saw a sailor lounging under one of the trees that lined the road, and asked him if the inn was anywhere near.

"What! Jean Perigord's house?" answered the man. "O yes; I thought every one knew the 'Great Gun.' Come along, I will show it to you."

In a couple of minutes they reached the house. It was still open; a lamp was burning over the door, and there stood Jean Perigord himself, apparently looking out for some one. The sailor touched his hat and asked Jasmin for a trifle; the latter told the landlord to give the man something to drink, and they entered the house together. The man then tossed off his gla.s.s and left them alone.

"I will not ask if you are Jean Perigord," said Jasmin, as they entered the little parlour, "you are so like our honest old Achille. I have come to you on a delicate and most important matter; but first of all read this," and he handed to the innkeeper the letter from his brother, which he read with evident astonishment and perturbation.

"Now listen to me," continued Jasmin. "There is no time for beating round the bush. What about two young persons sent to you by your cousin Michel Greboeuf, of St. Sulpice?"

"Mercy on us!" exclaimed Jean, in great agitation. "Do you know that they are here?"

"Of course," replied Jasmin. "When did they come?"

"Early this afternoon," said the innkeeper; "but I was not to say a word about it."

"Are they within?"

"She is; but he went out a couple of hours ago and hired a boat to take him to one of the vessels lying in the river. Ah! I thought, in spite of their being dressed like common country folk, they must be something more than they seemed. But," added he, abruptly, "I don't know why I should tell you all this."

"Nay, my good fellow," rejoined Jasmin, in his blandest way, "surely the word of our good old Achille is enough."

Jean glanced hastily at the letter as if to rea.s.sure himself, and then a thought seemed suddenly to strike him.

"Stay. Mercy on us!" said he, stepping back a little, "is it possible?

Yes, I see--of course you are monseigneur the marquis. How could I be so stupid? Ah, monsieur," he added, "I can only be too glad to----"

"Hus.h.!.+" cried Jasmin, interrupting him. "We are watched. Do you not see?"

And, sure enough, following the direction of Jasmin's eyes, Jean did see the man who had brought his visitor there emerge noiselessly from a dark corner near the open door and steal away into the street.

"Quick," said Jasmin, "go to her at once. Tell her all is well, but that she must come instantly to the Hotel Turenne."

"But she will never come without him," cried Jean, pleadingly.

"Tell her that you will bring her husband to her the moment he returns; but that if she delays, he will be lost. I will go on first and see that the way is clear."

With these words Monsieur Jasmin drew his cloak about him and disappeared. For a few moments poor Jean stood utterly bewildered, but the thought of the danger aroused him, and he hurried up-stairs to the chamber where Marguerite was sitting, anxiously awaiting her husband's return.

In a few hasty words, and not a little excited by his mission, the landlord bade her get ready and follow him at once, adding that a good friend had come to aid them, and that she and her husband would soon be safe. At first she hesitated, but on his urgent a.s.surance that she had nothing to fear, she forthwith put on her hood and accompanied him down the stairs, and they quitted the house.

They had proceeded about a hundred yards, and had just reached a part of the quay where some stone steps led down to a landing-place, when Jean heard footsteps behind him. He stopped and turned round, and was instantly seized and thrown to the ground, his a.s.sailant whispering to him as he held him down with a grasp like that of a vice, "Keep quiet, good Master Jean. This business does not concern you, and you shall be set free in a minute or two."

Jean Perigord had too brave a heart for that, however, and he struggled to get loose. He succeeded in raising himself a little, but it was only to hear a shriek, and to see the unhappy girl borne past him by two men, who carried her down the steps and placed her in a boat that lay at the landing-place. The next moment he saw two other men carrying past him what seemed to be the figure of a man struggling in the folds of a cloak that had apparently been thrown over him. The m.u.f.fled form was thrown into the same boat, which was then instantly shoved off.

"Now, my good Jean," said the man, as he let go his hold of the innkeeper, "just go home and keep your tongue quiet--it will be best for you. I shall have an eye on you, and if you blab about what you have seen, why you will stand a good chance of sharing the same fate as your friends yonder. They have been arrested under the king's _lettre de cachet_, and if you meddle in the matter you are a dead man."

Half an hour later Monsieur de Crillon received the report of his chief _employe_, which was to the effect that the young marquis had been overheard whilst discovering himself to Jean Perigord, and that he and the young female who had previously reached the "Great Gun" had been seized and conveyed to the prison of Bouffay, where they awaited Monsieur de Crillon's further orders. "Let the horses be got ready and brought round at once," was the reply, and his follower retired to give directions accordingly.

In the meanwhile Jean Perigord had returned to his house in dire dismay at what had taken place, and his anxiety was heightened, if that were possible, by the reflection that he had very likely been made the means of decoying poor Marguerite into a trap. He could not help fearing, moreover, that the figure he had seen carried past him and thrown into the boat had been that of the poor young fellow her husband, who had doubtless been captured on the quay as he was landing. Without a thought about closing his house as usual, he threw himself into a chair and groaned aloud. What was he to do? Now he resolved to seek out the Marquis de Beaujardin at the Hotel Turenne; now again he shrank from such a step as he remembered that terrible injunction to keep silence about the matter. He was, however, suddenly aroused from his rueful reflections by the sound of hasty footsteps in the pa.s.sage, and had scarcely had time to rise from his chair when there stood before him a young man, in the garb of a peasant indeed, but whose face and figure, to say nothing of his language and manner, were little in accordance with his homely apparel.

"You will be glad to hear, honest Jean," said he, "that I have managed it all, and have succeeded in taking pa.s.sages in a s.h.i.+p that sails to-morrow morning. I must go and bring down my poor young wife at once, as I have kept my boat waiting to take us off to the s.h.i.+p. I can never repay you for your kindness, but----" Here he stopped short, and then added in some surprise: "How now, my good friend! you look as if you had seen a ghost."

That was, indeed, just what Jean himself was thinking at that moment.

"Heaven have mercy on us!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Is it you? It cannot be."

"Are you ill, or crazy, or else what is the matter?" cried Isidore.

"Has anything befallen her?" he added, as Jean stood there before him wringing his hands. Isidore was about to rush up-stairs, but the landlord grasped his arm and stopped him, and then in hurried and broken sentences he related to him what had occurred during his absence.

Incoherent as the narrative was, it sufficed to tell Isidore only too plainly what had happened; yet he could at first scarcely realise it all. Trembling with agitation, he pressed the innkeeper with question after question till nothing more remained to be told. "What could I do," cried Jean, despairingly, "when monseigneur the marquis himself--if, indeed, it was he--told me you would be all safe if I took her at once to the Hotel Turenne?"

"The marquis himself!" cried Isidore. "Are you mad? I will not believe it. What was he like--how old?"

"Perhaps a little older than yourself. I supposed, of course, that it was the young marquis, of whom my brother has often spoken to me."

"The young marquis! There is some horrible treachery in all this; but I will find it out, cost what it will. At the Hotel Turenne, did you say?"

Jean nodded an affirmative, and before he could add another word Isidore had rushed out of the house.

Dark as it was, he managed to find his way, after many inquiries, to the Hotel Turenne. As he reached the door two mounted men with a led horse came up; the master of the house and two or three of the hotel servants with lights were standing in the hall.

"Is the Marquis de Beaujardin staying here?" asked Isidore, abruptly.

"No, he is not," answered, the hotel-keeper; "but he came to the Hotel du Roi this afternoon; you will find him there. Stand aside."

At this moment a gentleman in a riding suit, and booted and spurred, pa.s.sed through the hall and descended the steps, accompanied by the landlord, who officiously held the stirrup as he mounted.

"Stay," said he, bending forward and addressing the hotel-keeper in an undertone, "should a person named Jasmin come again, you will tell him that I am obliged by his a.s.sistance, which has been quite successful.

Should he not return, send this message to him to-morrow at the Hotel du Roi; he is in the _suite_ of the Marquis de Beaujardin." With these words the speaker put spurs to his horse and galloped off, followed by his attendants.

Isidore had not seen the speaker's face indeed, but he knew that voice only too well. What! had his own father then come there in league with de Crillon to hunt her down so relentlessly? Had they even employed his own discharged menial to personate him and entrap her? With his brows knit and his teeth set close, he bent his steps in the direction of the Hotel du Roi, but he had not gone far before he stopped; then, after considering for a minute or two, he turned and made his way almost mechanically to the Quai La Fosse.

The landlord was standing at the door, peering anxiously out into the darkness, but Isidore pa.s.sed him without notice, and hurrying by into the little parlour threw himself into a chair; there, burying his face in his hands, he gave way for the first time, and broke into a pa.s.sionate outburst of grief and despair.

Perigord stood near him for a while, not daring to intrude on his distress; but at last he approached him timidly, and laying his hand on his shoulder tried to calm and soothe him. Then, growing bolder, he began to implore him at least to try and save his own life. But Isidore seemed not to heed him. "His own life! What was life to him now--now that he had lost all that seemed to him to make life worth preserving?"

"For the poor young creature's sake," continued Jean, the tears running down his cheeks, "save yourself. Perhaps you may yet find some one; surely there must be some one who may have the power to help you to try and rescue her." As he said this, poor Jean shuddered at the thought of those terrible words about the _lettre de cachet_.

Perhaps the innkeeper's words reminded Isidore that his uncle, the Baron de Valricour, or possibly the Marquis de Montcalm himself, might yet do something for him, if indeed anything could be done. At all events it was useless to hope for aid from anyone in France. Somewhat to the honest innkeeper's surprise, he suddenly arose, and speaking with a calmness and dignity which quite awed the would-be comforter, he said, "You are right, good friend. I take shame to myself for showing such weakness. Yes, there are those who may still help me, if it be G.o.d's will; and if they can, I know they will not shrink from doing so.

For the kindness which would have sheltered and a.s.sisted us, I can never repay you, but I can never forget it. Farewell! It is best for you that you should not even know my name. The boat that is waiting yonder shall take me back to the s.h.i.+p alone," he added, with a groan.

"Ah, if ever I visit France again----"

He could say no more, but he grasped honest Jean's hand and left the house. The landlord hurried after him, but it was only to see him descend the steps of the quay and enter the boat, which, in a minute or two, was lost in the darkness.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tailpiece to Chapter VIII]