St. Martin's Summer Part 11

Ushered into the Lord Seneschal's presence, he startled that obese gentleman by the announcement that he had returned from Condillac with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, and that he would require an escort to accompany them to Paris.

"For I am by no means minded to be exposed to such measures as the tigress of Condillac and her cub may take to recover their victim," he explained with a grim smile.

The Seneschal combed his beard and screwed up his pale eyes until they vanished in the cus.h.i.+ons of his cheeks. He was lost in amazement.

He could only imagine that the Queen's emissary had been duped more successfully this time.

"I am to gather, then," said he, dissembling what was pa.s.sing through his mind, "that you delivered the lady by force or strategy."

"By both, monsieur," was the short answer.

Tressan continued to comb his beard, and pondered the situation. If things were so, indeed, they could not have fallen out more to his taste. He had had no hand in it, one way or the other. He had run with the hare and hunted with the hounds, and neither party could charge him with any lack of loyalty. His admiration and respect for Monsieur de Garnache grew enormously. When the rash Parisian had left him that afternoon for the purpose of carrying his message himself to Condillac, Tressan had entertained little hope of ever again seeing him alive.

Yet there he stood, as calm and composed as ever, announcing that singlehanded he had carried out what another might well have hesitated to attempt with a regiment at his heels.

Tressan's curiosity urged him to beg for the details of this marvel, and Garnache entertained him with a brief recital of what had taken place, whereat, realizing that Garnache had indeed outwitted them, the Seneschal's wonder increased.

"But we are not out of the quagmire yet," cried Garnache; "and that is why I want an escort."

Tressan became uneasy. "How many men shall you require?" he asked, thinking that the Parisian would demand at least the half of a company.

"A half-dozen and a sergeant to command them."

Tressan's uneasiness was dissipated, and he found himself despising Garnache more for his rashness in being content with so small a number than he respected him for the boldness and courage he had so lately displayed. It was not for him to suggest that the force might prove insufficient; rather was it for him to be thankful that Garnache had not asked for more. An escort Tressan dared not refuse him, and yet refuse it him he must have done--or broken with the Condillacs--had he asked for a greater number. But six men! Pooh! they would be of little account. So he very readily consented, inquiring how soon Garnache would require them.

"At once," was the Parisian's answer. "I leave Gren.o.ble to-night. I hope to set out in an hour's time. Meanwhile I'll have the troopers form a guard of honour. I am lodged over the way."

Tressan, but too glad to be quit of him, rose there and then to give the necessary orders, and within ten minutes Garnache was back at the Sucking Calf with six troopers and a sergeant, who had left their horses in the Seneschal's stables until the time for setting out. Meanwhile Garnache placed them on duty in the common-room of the inn.

He called for refreshment for them, and bade them remain there at the orders of his man Rabecque. His reason for this step was that it became necessary that he should absent himself for a while to find a carriage suitable for the journey; for as the Sucking Calf was not a post-house he must seek one elsewhere--at the Auberge de France, in fact, which was situate on the eastern side of the town by the Porte de Savoie--and he was not minded to leave the person of Valerie unguarded during his absence. The half-dozen troopers he considered ample, as indeed they were.

On this errand he departed, wrapped tightly in his cloak, walking briskly through the now heavier rain.

But at the Auberge de France a disappointment awaited him. The host had no horses and no carriage, nor would he have until the following morning. He was sorrow-stricken that the circ.u.mstance should discompose Monsieur de Garnache; he was elaborate in his explanations of how it happened that he could place no vehicle at Monsieur de Garnache's disposal--so elaborate that it is surprising Monsieur de Garnache's suspicions should not have been aroused. For the truth of the matter was that the folk of Condillac had been at the Auberge de France before him--as they had been elsewhere in the town wherever a conveyance might be procurable--and by promises of reward for obedience and threats of punishment for disobedience, they had contrived that Garnache should hear this same story on every hand. His mistake had lain in his eagerness to obtain a guard from the Seneschal. Had he begun by making sure of a conveyance, antic.i.p.ating, as he should have done, this move on the part of the Condillacs--a move which he did not even now suspect--it is possible that he might have been spared much of the trouble that was to follow.

An hour or so later, after having vainly ransacked the town for the thing he needed, he returned wet and annoyed to the Veau qui Tote. In a corner of the s.p.a.cious common-room--a corner by the door leading to the interior of the inn--he saw the six troopers at table, waxing a trifle noisy over cards. Their sergeant sat a little apart, in conversation with the landlord's wife, eyes upturned adoringly, oblivious of the increasing scowl that gathered about her watchful husband's brow.

At another table sat four gentlemen--seemingly travellers, by their air and garb--in a conversation that was hushed at Garnache's entrance.

But he paid no heed to them as he stalked with ringing step across the rushstrewn floor, nor observed how covertly and watchfully their glances followed him as returning, in pa.s.sing the sergeant's prompt salute he vanished through the doorway leading to the stairs.

He reappeared again a moment later, to call the host, and give him orders for the preparing of his own and Rabecque's supper.

On the landing above he found Rabecque awaiting him.

"Is all well?" he asked, and received from his lackey a rea.s.suring answer.

Mademoiselle welcomed him gladly. His long absence, it appeared, had been giving her concern. He told her on what errand he had been, and alarm overspread her face upon hearing its result.

"But, monsieur," she cried, "you are not proposing that I should remain a night in Gren.o.ble."

"What alternative have we?" he asked, and his brows met, impatient at what he accounted no more than feminine whimsey.

"It is not safe," she exclaimed, her fears increasing. "You do not know how powerful are the Condillacs."

He strode to the fire, and the logs hissed under the pressure of his wet boot. He set his back to the blaze, and smiled down upon her.

"Nor do you know how powerful are we," he answered easily. "I have below six troopers and a sergeant of the Seneschal's regiment; with myself and Rabecque we are nine men in all. That should be a sufficient guard, mademoiselle. Nor do I think that with all their power the Condillacs will venture here to claim you at the sword point."

"And yet," she answered, for all that she was plainly rea.s.sured, at least in part, "I would rather you had got me a horse, that we might have ridden to Saint Marcellin, where no doubt a carriage might be obtained."

"I did not see the need to put you to so much discomfort," he returned.

"It is raining heavily."

"Oh, what of that?" she flung back impatiently.

"Besides," he added, "it seems there are no horses at the post-house. A benighted place this Dauphiny of yours, mademoiselle."

But she never heeded the gibe at her native province. "No horses?" she echoed, and her hazel eyes looked up sharply, the alarm returning to her face. She rose, and approached him. "Surely that is impossible."

"I a.s.sure you that it is as I say--neither at the post-house nor at any of the inns I visited could I find me a spare horse."

"Monsieur," she cried, "I see the hand of Condillac in this."

"As how?" he inquired, and his tone again was quickened by impatience.

"They have antic.i.p.ated you. They seek to keep you here--to keep us in Gren.o.ble."

"But to what end?" he asked, his impatience growing. "The Auberge de France has promised me a carriage in the morning. What shall it avail them at Condillac to keep us here to-night?"

"They may have some project. Oh, monsieur! I am full of fears."

"Dismiss them," he answered lightly; and to rea.s.sure her he added, smiling: "Rest a.s.sured we shall keep good watch over you, Rabecque and I and the troopers. A guard shall remain in the pa.s.sage throughout the night. Rabecque and I will take turn about at sentry-go. Will that give you peace?"

"You are very good," she said, her voice quivering with feeling and real grat.i.tude, and as he was departing she called after him. "You will be careful of yourself," she said.

He paused under the lintel, and turned, surprised. "It is a habit of mine," said he, with a glint of humour in his eye.

But there was no answering smile from her. Her face was all anxiety.

"Beware of pitfalls," she bade him. "Go warily; they are cruelly cunning, those folk of Condillac. And if evil should befall you..."

"There would still remain Rabecque and the troopers," he concluded.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I implore you to be careful," she insisted.

"You may depend upon me," he said, and closed the door.

Outside he called Rabecque, and together they went below. But mindful of her fears, he dispatched one of the troopers to stand sentry outside her door whilst he and his lackey supped. That done, he called the host, and set himself at table, Rabecque at his elbow in attendance to hand him the dishes and pour his wine.

Across the low-ceilinged room the four travellers still sat in talk, and as Garnache seated himself, one of them shouted for the host and asked in an impatient tone to know if his supper was soon to come.