Robert Tournay Part 17

"I ride toward Tours," replied the intrepid woman.

CHAPTER IX

PRISON BOAT NUMBER FOUR

Paul Durand was confined in the prison at Tours. The prison was so crowded that he had to be placed in a small room at the top of the building adjoining the quarters occupied by the jailer and his family.

Paul was paler than usual, the result of fatigue from the long, rapid ride from La Haye, but he showed no signs of fear and held up his head bravely as the jailer entered the room. The latter carried a bundle under his arm.

"You are to take these clothes," he said, "go into the adjoining room, and put them on in place of the garments you have on."

Paul took the bundle and went into the next room. For fifteen minutes the jailer sat upon the one chair the room contained, humming and jingling his bunch of keys. Then the door into the outer corridor was thrown open and a large man entered. The jailer sprang to his feet with alacrity.

"Where's the prisoner, Potin?" demanded the newcomer in a harsh voice.

"In the next room, Citizen Leboeuf," replied Potin.

Leboeuf strode toward the door and laid his hand upon the latch.

"I beg your pardon, Citizen Leboeuf, but the prisoner may not be ready to receive you."

"Well, there's no particular reason to be squeamish, is there?" asked Leboeuf, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his fat face into a leer.

"If you will wait another minute I think the prisoner will come out,"

suggested Potin deferentially, jingling his keys.

"Bah, you show your lodgers too much consideration, citizen jailer; you spoil them." Nevertheless Leboeuf allowed his hand to drop from the latch and took a few impatient strides across the floor.

The door opened and, turning, Leboeuf saw Mademoiselle de Rochefort standing on the threshold. She was thinner than when she left La Thierry: but her eyes had lost none of their fire, and she looked Citizen Leboeuf in the face without flinching. His dull eyes kindled while he looked at her some moments without speaking.

"Do you know who I am?" he inquired in his thick, husky voice.

"Yes, I overheard the jailer call you Citizen Leboeuf."

"Right. I am Citizen Leboeuf; and do you know why you have been brought here?"

"A paper was read to me last night which pretended to give some explanation," was her quiet rejoinder.

"In order to save time and expense your trial will take place at Tours, rather than at Paris. I am one of the judges of this district."

Mademoiselle Edme looked at him with an expression of indifference.

"You do not appear to be afraid."

"I am not afraid," was the quiet reply.

Leboeuf eyed her with evident admiration.

"Why did you put on boy's clothes?" he asked abruptly.

"In order to avoid detection," she answered frankly, coming forward and seating herself in the chair which Potin had vacated upon her entrance.

Leboeuf was standing before her, hat in hand, an act of politeness he had not shown to any one for years.

"And you did it well," he said. "You threw them off the track completely. Had it not been for me, your hiding-place would never have been discovered. It was a splendid trick you played upon those bunglers from Paris." And he slapped his thigh in keen appreciation of it, and laughed hoa.r.s.ely.

"I will take your boy's clothes with me," he continued as he prepared to leave the room, "lest you should be tempted to put them on again from force of habit. We don't want you turning into a boy any more. No, you make too pretty a woman." Then going up to the jailer he said something to him in a low voice which Edme could not hear. Potin seemed to be remonstrating feebly. Leboeuf scowled, and from his manner appeared to insist upon the point at issue.

"Are you sure you are not afraid?" he said again abruptly to Edme as he went to the door and stood with one hand on the latch looking back into the room.

"No!"

He looked at her admiringly.

"Remember you are a woman now and have a perfect right to be afraid; also to kick and scream when anything is the matter."

Edme made no reply.

"In case you should ever feel afraid," he said significantly, "just send for Leboeuf, that's all," and with this he left the room.

Edme remained in Potin's charge for two days. The jailer treated her with great consideration, and she congratulated herself upon having fallen into such kindly hands. She momentarily expected to be summoned before the Tribunal. She did not know what the result would be; but she looked forward to her trial with impatience. In any event it would end the suspense in which she was living.

On the afternoon of the second day Potin entered her room, accompanied by one of his deputies.

"You must prepare to go with this man, citizeness," said the little jailer.

"Has the Tribunal sent for me? she inquired.

"Not yet. But you are to be transferred to another prison."

"I prefer to stay here," she said. "Cannot you ask them to allow me to remain?"

"You have no choice in the matter, nor have I; I have only my orders."

"From whom did the order come? From that man Leboeuf who came here the other day?" she demanded quickly.

"I am not at liberty to say," replied Potin, s.h.i.+fting his feet uneasily.

"Are you forbidden to tell me where I am to be taken?" was her next question.

"To prison boat Number Four. The city prisons are so full," he continued, in answer to her look of surprised inquiry, "that great numbers have to be lodged in the boats anch.o.r.ed in the river. Number Four is one of the largest," he added as if by way of consolation.

In company of the deputy Edme was conducted to the floating prison on the Loire. As they stepped over the side they were met by a little round-shouldered man with splay feet. His face was wrinkled and brown almost to blackness; his dress showed that he had a fondness for bright colors, as he wore a purple s.h.i.+rt with a crimson sash, a bright yellow neckcloth, and a red cap. The deputy turned over his charge to him, received his quittance, and went away.

Edme was conducted to a room in the stern of the vessel. It was a small room and to her surprise she found it furnished comfortably, almost luxuriously. On a table in the centre stood a carafe of wine and a basket of sweet biscuit. Two or three chairs and a couch completed the equipment of the room. At the extreme end, the porthole had been enlarged into a window which looked out over the river. This window was closed by wooden bars. Otherwise the place looked more like the comfortable quarters of some s.h.i.+p's officer than a jail.