The Black Wolf's Breed

by Harris Dickson

  CHAPTER X

  IN THE HOUSE OF BERTRAND

  It would now have been a most simple matter for me to go out unmolestedbeside the princess. And this is what I should have done had it not beenfor an accident. While Vauban was talking to the princess, I glancedround the room to see if Yvard was there, or any other person likely toknow of this business. There was one figure strolling about in the rearwhich wore a familiar look, yet I could not say I had seen the man before.

  When Vauban gave the order to allow us to pass "and none else," this manvery visibly took on an air of apprehension. He looked from one door tothe other and, finding all guarded, was quite alarmed, then, withoutperceiving himself observed, he manned himself with his formerunconcerned manner. There was something in the poise of his head, hiswalk, which came as a well remembered thing from some secret niche ofmemory.

  Now as the princess and I walked out in front of our guard, this manfell, as if naturally, into the rear of our company, and attemptednonchalantly to saunter out behind us. The guard at the door lockedtheir bayonets across, barring his exit.

  "By whose orders," he demanded with some show of haughty indignation, "doyou hold me a prisoner with this disorderly rabble?"

  "Marshal Vauban's," the sentry replied, unmoved.

  The man shrank back perceptibly; as I took a longer sight of him thefamiliarity of voice and figure recurred more strongly. I stood still tolook. He turned his face. Broussard! I almost spoke the name. Yes,beyond all peradventure it was Broussard, disguised, but still Broussard.

  What a world of vain speculation this opened on the instant, speculationto which no answer came. How much and what had I told him during ourvoyage? How had he treasured it and where repeated it? For I had now noother thought than he was the spy who brought Yvard the packet designedfor Spain.

  "Come my lord, are you dreaming?" the princess broke in impatiently. Ihad quite forgotten her.

  "No madame, I crave your patience, and beg attention a moment."

  I then asked hurriedly whether she knew the young officer in charge ofour escort, and whether she would trust him to see her to a place ofsafety. She knew the lad as a gentleman of birth and reputed honor, sowith the guard and the marshal's orders felt herself safe. Despite theeffort to speak coolly my whole frame and voice quivered with excitementat prospect of winding up the entire affair by one more stroke of luck.Seeing which my lady icily inquired:

  "But why? Why do you fear? Surely these soldiers are sufficient toafford protection."

  The half veiled scorn of her manner cut me to the quick, but I determinednot to be drawn aside from my purpose. My face still a-flush at hersuggestion of cowardice, I replied earnestly:

  "Mademoiselle la Princesse--"

  "Ah, you know me?"

  I nodded.

  "And yet are willing to relinquish the honor of my escort?"

  "It is duty, Mademoiselle la Princesse; stern and imperative duty."

  "Sh!" Placing her finger to her lips, "address me simply as Madame."

  "Madame, you wrong me; I would not desert you while in danger; now I maygive you into safer hands with honor. A most urgent matter demands mypresence there," pointing inside, "it may cost my life. Had I better notacquaint M. de Verrue with your character? He will then be morecircumspect?" She thought a space.

  "No, you may tell him I am a woman--tell him of the stupid folly whichled me here to-night and brought a brave gentleman into danger--but notmy name."

  She would have thanked me further, but I was all impatience to be inside,seeing which she graciously bade me go. I bethought me then of thepacket yet in my bosom, and knowing all those within were to be searchedI took a hasty resolution, born of my confidence in the Princess. It maybe said here that the lady whom I escorted on that memorable night wasknown throughout the kingdom for her eccentric tastes, and noted fornever meddling with intrigues of either state or love. Her passion laywith her dogs and horses, the hunt, and not in the trifles of a court.

  "Madame, will you not render me a service in return?" I felt my wholeattitude to be imploring, so warmly did I bespeak her grace.

  "I have here some papers of the utmost value to myself, to no one else.My honor requires that they be delivered to M. Jerome de Greville beforeto-morrow's sun arises. He keeps his lodging in Rue St. Denis, at thesign of the Austrian Arms. Can Madame not dispatch a trusted messengerand secure their delivery?"

  The fervor of the appeal touched her, for she listened with interest.

  "Oh, Madame, I beseech you, as I have obeyed you without question thisnight, do not fail me as you love the glory of France. You may have M.de Greville informed how and where you came by them, in case aught of illshould happen to me this night."

  She took the packet.

  "Upon my royal word," she whispered, in such a tone of sincerity I feltrelieved of any uneasiness concerning the papers.

  I had a real regret at seeing her leave the hall. Walking so regally infront of the guard I wondered at my thick-headedness which had not beforeperceived in her every movement the princely pride of Bourbon. I threwmy cloak, which fettered me, to one of the men, and wearing still mymask, re-entered the hall. They were already engaged in the search,questioning closely each man in rotation. None was allowed to departwithout being questioned and examined. I immediately sought forBroussard. He had gone over towards another small door, the same throughwhich I had escaped the night before. There were two guards posted here.

  Broussard dawdled about with the air of a man very much bored, who onlywaited his turn to go through a disagreeable ordeal that he might leave.I fancied his wits were actively at work beneath so impassive anexterior. He had spoken privately to several men, one at a time, incareless fashion, and then tapping the legs of the tables, and kickingthe chairs as he passed, he again came near the door. I managed to keepclose to him. As he stood talking to the sentries the four men came uptwo by two from opposite directions, and at a sign from him, grappledwith the guard. While they were thus engaged Broussard bolted throughthe door. I drew my sword and plunged after him.

  From inside, the sentries cried out: "The two spies have gone this way,"and the whole mob surged out and divided in chase. Some perhaps were inleague with Broussard, others were in the service of Vauban, I could nottell.

  The hall was densely dark; I knew not the way, but I had Broussard but afew feet in front to guide me; behind, some twenty or thirty stoutvarlets strung out in pursuit, not a dozen paces to the rear.

  It so happened that there was a door which stood half open, and Broussardbeing hard pressed doubled by this and darted in. He was but a couple ofyards ahead and I alone observed this stratagem. When he vanished to theright, I slipped in behind, just as our foremost pursuers swept by. Thegreat noises they made and the resounding echoes effectually preventedtheir notice of a cessation of sounds from us. Nor did they pause tolisten. Crushing through the narrow passage their pressure slammed thedoor behind us. I heard the clank of a heavy bolt as it dropped intoplace. Thinking Broussard had sought some secret means of escape knownto himself, and fearing he would get away, I dashed madly on, only tofetch up with a terrific thump against a stone wall.

  The shock dazed me and I fell in a heap to the floor. Perhaps it was aswell, for I made no further noise. But I listened.

  The place was intensely dark, and not a sound save the heightened beatingof my own heart disturbed it. I was afraid to move, lest I bring upon methe crowd outside. Had not one of the men cried "_two_ spies." It didlook as if I too was a confederate of Broussard, and I could not haveexplained. The echoes of the chase died away, and all was still. Mymind and ears were very busy then trying to make out what sort of a holethis was I had so unceremoniously fallen into. And Broussard? Where hadhe disappeared? I knew he could not be far, for there had been nofootsteps since the door shut. I took it that he must be in the room,and that the reasons which enforced quiet upon me were also powerful tohim.

&
nbsp; He was worse off though than I, for he had doubtless heard me blunderinto the wall, and thought one of the marshal's men had followed him.This idea suggested he would probably then lay perfectly still and waitfor the man to recover and go out. Or, the thought made me shiver--hemight steal up and finish me with the dagger. As quietly as I could Iloosened my own knife in its sheath and got it well in hand. In spite ofall the caution I used, the sheath rattled against a buckle. I knew myposition was betrayed. I thought then to reach a corner where I couldthe better protect myself against a stealthy attack.

  Immediately overhead an almost indistinguishable blur marked a high,square window, some seven feet from the floor. There was but one. Inall probability the door lay directly opposite. That being true, thenatural inclination of a man flying down the hall in the direction wecame would be to go further to the right. Reasoning in this wise, hopingto avoid a struggle with Broussard in the dark, I edged my way along thewall toward the left. Inch by inch I went, holding my sword extended atarm's length in front of me, and lifting each foot carefully to avoid thescraping. Every few feet I made a complete sweep in all directions withmy blade, to guard against approach. Proceeding in this way, I felt mysword's point at length touch something--something soft. Before I hadtime to wonder what it was, the sharp hiss of a blade cut close to mycheek, and struck clanging against the wall. I sprang back beyond reach.

  "Broussard," and in the extreme excitement I spoke his name unwittingly,"Broussard, stand still; I had no thought to attack you. Stay where youare, and I will seek another place."

  There came a voice, "Who are you to call me Broussard?" but I answerednot.

  In the absence of any preparation for assault, I took it that he wouldremain where he was. Thereupon I backed into the diagonal corner, andstood stock still.

  After some period--hours or minutes, I knew not what, they wereinterminable--Broussard spoke again. His voice sounded sharp, andunnaturally loud.

  "Who are you, and what do you want? I know you; is it Nortier, Lireux?"

  "Hush, fool; dost not hear the tread of Vauban's men outside? You willcall them down upon us with your babble." They were stamping through thepassage as I spoke.

  "Ah!" and there was a world of relief and incredulity in his loweredtone. "Then you are not with Vauban? Who are you?" I made no reply.

  During the long period of absolute and profound silence which succeeded Ihad much time to reflect. I judged myself to be in an unused chamber,which, if square, would be about thirty feet across--calculating by thedistance from the diagonal corner--if in fact Broussard lay in thecorner. There was but one opening, for I could hear the wind stirringoutside, and no draught came in. Did the window open on the street, oron an inner court? There was no way of telling.

  If it be true that men live in thoughts rather than in deeds, if thechanging phantoms of our brain carve deeper impressions than the pettypart we play with our hands, then, indeed, that frightful night wouldform by far the longest chapter in the history of my soul.

  Darkness, darkness, darkness; quivering, soundless, hopeless night.

  I feared to move, and no sense save that of hearing bound me to the worldof living men. Living men? What place had I among them?

  A party of drunken roisterers staggered beneath the window, singingcoarse songs and bandying their brutal jests. But it no longerinterested me to know the window opened on a street.

  Hour after hour plodded in slow procession through the night.

  Outside, a clattering vehicle whipped past over the rough stones, thedriver swearing at his team. The day was coming at last. Did I wish it?Perhaps the night were kinder, for it at least obscured my misery. Ialmost prayed the darkness might last.