CHAPTER IX.
THE HOUSE IN THE RUELLE D'ARCY.
I had not gone down half a dozen steps before I heard a man enter thestaircase from the street, and begin to ascend. It struck me at oncethat this might be M. de Bruhl; and I realised that I had not leftmadame's apartment a moment too soon. The last thing I desired, havingso much on my hands, was to embroil myself with a stranger, andaccordingly I quickened my pace, hoping to meet him so near the footof the stairs as to leave him in doubt whether I had been visiting theupper or lower part of the house. The staircase was dark, however, andbeing familiar with it, he had the advantage over me. He came leapingup two steps at a time, and turning the angle abruptly, surprised mebefore I was clear of the upper flight.
On seeing me, he stopped short and stared; thinking at first, I fancy,that he ought to recognise me. When he did not, he stood back a pace.'Umph!' he said. 'Have you been--have you any message for me, sir?'
'No,' I said, 'I have not.'
He frowned. 'I am M. de Bruhl,' he said.
'Indeed?' I muttered, not knowing what else to say.
'You have been----'
'Up your stairs, sir? Yes. In error,' I answered bluntly.
He gave a kind of grunt at that, and stood aside, incredulous anddissatisfied, yet uncertain how to proceed. I met his black looks witha steady countenance, and passed by him, becoming aware, however, as Iwent on down the stairs that he had turned and was looking after me.He was a tall, handsome man, dark, and somewhat ruddy of complexion,and was dressed in the extreme of Court fashion, in a suit ofmyrtle-green trimmed with sable. He carried also a cloak lined withthe same on his arm. Beyond looking back when I reached the street, tosee that he did not follow me, I thought no more of him. But we wereto meet again, and often. Nay, had I then known all that was to beknown I would have gone back and---- But of that in another place.
The Rue de Valois, to which a tradesman, who was peering cautiouslyout of his shop, directed me, proved to be one of the main streets ofthe city, narrow and dirty, and darkened by overhanging eaves andsignboards, but full of noise and bustle. One end of it opened on the_parvis_ of the Cathedral; the other and quieter end appeared to abuton the west gate of the town. Feeling the importance of avoidingnotice in the neighbourhood of the house I sought, I strolled into theopen space in front of the Cathedral, and accosting two men who stoodtalking there, learned that the Ruelle d'Arcy was the third lane onthe right of the Rue de Valois, and some little distance along it.Armed with this information I left them, and with my head bent down,and my cloak drawn about the lower part of my face, as if I felt theeast wind, I proceeded down the street until I reached the opening ofthe lane. Without looking up I turned briskly into it.
When I had gone ten paces past the turning, however, I stopped and,gazing about me, began to take in my surroundings as fast as I could.The lane, which seemed little frequented, was eight or nine feet wide,unpaved, and full of ruts. The high blank wall of a garden rose on oneside of it, on the other the still higher wall of a house; and bothwere completely devoid of windows, a feature which I recognised withthe utmost dismay. For it completely upset all my calculations. Invain I measured with my eye the ten paces I had come; in vain I lookedup, looked this way and that. I was nonplussed. No window opened onthe lane at that point, nor, indeed, throughout its length. For it wasbounded to the end, as far as I could see, by dead-walls as ofgardens.
Recognising, with a sinking heart, what this meant, I saw in a momentthat all the hopes I had raised on Simon Fleix's discovery werebaseless. Mademoiselle had dropped the velvet bow, no doubt, but notfrom a window. It was still a clue, but one so slight and vague as tobe virtually useless, proving only that she was in trouble and in needof help; perhaps that she had passed through this lane on her way fromone place of confinement to another.
Thoroughly baffled and dispirited, I leant for awhile against thewall, brooding over the ill-luck which seemed to attend me in this, asin so many previous adventures. Nor was the low voice of conscience,suggesting that such failures arose from mismanagement rather thanfrom ill-luck, slow to make itself heard. I reflected that if I hadnot allowed myself to be robbed of the gold token, mademoiselle wouldhave trusted me; that if I had not brought her to so poor an abode asmy mother's, she would not have been cajoled into following astranger; finally, that if I had remained with her, and sent Simon toattend to the horses in my place, no stranger would have gained accessto her.
But it has never been my way to accept defeat at the first offer, andthough I felt these self-reproaches to be well deserved, a moment'sreflection persuaded me that in the singular and especial providencewhich had brought the velvet knot safe to my hands I ought to findencouragement. Had Madame de Bruhl not picked it up it would havecontinued to lie in this by-path, through which neither I nor SimonFleix would have been likely to pass. Again, had madame not dropped itin her turn, we should have sought in vain for any, even theslightest, clue to Mademoiselle de la Vire's fate or position.
Cheered afresh by this thought, I determined to walk to the end of thelane; and forthwith did so, looking sharply about me as I went, butmeeting no one. The bare upper branches of a tree rose here and thereabove the walls, which were pierced at intervals by low, strong doors.These doors I carefully examined, but without making any discovery;all were securely fastened, and many seemed to have been rarelyopened. Emerging at last and without result on the inner side of thecity ramparts, I turned, and moodily retraced my steps through thelane, proceeding more slowly as I drew near to the Rue de Valois. Thistime, being a little farther from the street, I made a discovery.
The corner house, which had its front on the Rue Valois, presented, asI have said, a dead, windowless wall to the lane; but from my presentstandpoint I could see the upper part of the back of this house--thatpart of the back, I mean, which rose above the lower garden-wall thatabutted on it--and in this there were several windows. The whole oftwo and a part of a third were within the range of my eyes; andsuddenly in one of these I discovered something which made my heartbeat high with hope and expectation. The window in question washeavily grated; that which I saw was tied to one of the bars. It was asmall knot of some white stuff--linen apparently--and it seemed atrifle to the eye; but it was looped, as far as I could see from adistance, after the same fashion as the scrap of velvet I had in mypouch.
The conclusion was obvious, at the same time that it inspired me withthe liveliest admiration of mademoiselle's wit and resources. She wasconfined in that room; the odds were that she was behind those bars. Abow dropped thence would fall, the wind being favourable, into thelane, not ten, but twenty paces from the street. I ought to have beenprepared for a slight inaccuracy in a woman's estimate of distance.
It may be imagined with what eagerness I now scanned the house, withwhat minuteness I sought for a weak place. The longer I looked,however, the less comfort I derived from my inspection. I saw beforeme a gloomy stronghold of brick, four-square, and built in the oldItalian manner, with battlements at the top, and a smallmachicolation, little more than a string-course, above each story;this serving at once to lessen the monotony of the dead-walls, and toadd to the frowning weight of the upper part. The windows were few andsmall, and the house looked damp and mouldy; lichens clotted thebricks, and moss filled the string-courses. A low door opening fromthe lane into the garden naturally attracted my attention; but itproved to be of abnormal strength, and bolted both at the top andbottom.
Assured that nothing could be done on that side, and being unwillingto remain longer in the neighbourhood, lest I should attractattention, I returned to the street, and twice walked past the frontof the house, seeing all I could with as little appearance of seeinganything as I could compass. The front retreated, somewhat from theline of the street, and was flanked on the farther side by stables.Only one chimney smoked, and that sparely. Three steps led up toimposing double doors, which stood half open, and afforded a glimpseof a spacious hall and
a state staircase. Two men, apparentlyservants, lounged on the steps, eating chestnuts, and jesting with oneanother; and above the door were three shields blazoned in colours. Isaw with satisfaction, as I passed the second time, that the middlecoat was that of Turenne impaling one which I could not read--whichthoroughly satisfied me that the bow of velvet had not lied; so that,without more ado, I turned homewards, formulating my plans as I went.
I found all as I had left it; and my mother still lying in ahalf-conscious state, I was spared the pain of making excuses for pastabsence, or explaining that which I designed. I communicated the planI had formed to Simon Fleix, who saw no difficulty in procuring arespectable person to stay with Madame de Bonne. But for some time hewould come no farther into the business. He listened, his mouth openand his eyes glittering, to my plan until I came to his share in it;and then he fell into a violent fit of trembling.
'You want me to fight, monsieur,' he cried reproachfully, shaking allover like one in the palsy. 'You said so the other night. You want toget me killed! That's it.'
'Nonsense!' I answered sharply. 'I want you to hold the horses!'
He looked at me wildly, with a kind of resentment in his face, and yetas if he were fascinated.
'You will drag me into it!' he persisted. 'You will!'
'I won't,' I said.
'You will! You will! And the end I know. I shall have no chance. I ama clerk, and not bred to fighting. You want to be the death of me!' hecried excitedly.
'I don't want you to fight,' I answered with some contempt. 'I wouldrather that you kept out of it for my mother's sake. I only want youto stay in the lane and hold the horses. You will run little more riskthan you do sitting by the hearth here.'
And in the end I persuaded him to do what I wished; though still,whenever he thought of what was in front of him, he fell a-tremblingagain, and many times during the afternoon got up and walked to andfro between the window and the hearth, his face working and his handsclenched like those of a man in a fever. I put this down at first tosheer chicken-heartedness, and thought it augured ill for myenterprise; but presently remarking that he made no attempt to drawback, and that though the sweat stood on his brow he set about suchpreparations as were necessary--remembering also how long and kindly,and without pay or guerdon, he had served my mother, I began to seethat here was something phenomenal; a man strange and beyond theordinary, of whom it was impossible to predicate what he would do whenhe came to be tried.
For myself, I passed the afternoon in a state almost of apathy. Ithought it my duty to make this attempt to free mademoiselle, and tomake it at once, since it was impossible to say what harm might comeof delay, were she in such hands as Fresnoy's; but I had so littlehope of success that I regarded the enterprise as desperate. Thecertain loss of my mother, however, and the low ebb of my fortunes,with the ever-present sense of failure, contributed to render meindifferent to risks; and even when we were on our way, throughby-streets known to Simon, to the farther end of the Ruelle d'Arcy,and the red and frosty sunset shone in our faces, and gilded for amoment the dull eaves and grey towers above us, I felt no softening.Whatever the end, there was but one in the world whom I should regret,or who would regret me; and she hung, herself, on the verge ofeternity.
So that I was able to give Simon Fleix his last directions with asmuch coolness as I ever felt in my life. I stationed him with thethree horses in the lane--which seemed as quiet and little frequentedas in the morning--near the end of it, and about a hundred paces ormore from the house.
'Turn their heads towards the ramparts,' I said, wheeling them roundmyself, 'and then they will be ready to start. They are all quietenough. You can let the Cid loose. And now listen to me, Simon,' Icontinued. 'Wait here until you see me return, or until you see youare going to be attacked. In the first case, stay for me, of course;in the second, save yourself as you please. Lastly, if neither eventoccurs before half-past five--you will hear the convent-bell yonderring at the half-hour--begone, and take the horses; they are yours.And one word more,' I added hurriedly. 'If you can only get away withone horse, Simon, take the Cid. It is worth more than most men, andwill not fail you at a pinch.'
As I turned away, I gave him one look to see if he understood. It wasnot without hesitation that after that look I left him. The lad's facewas flushed, he was breathing hard, his eyes seemed to be almoststarting from his head. He sat his horse shaking in every limb, andhad all the air of a man in a fit. I expected him to call me back; buthe did not, and reflecting that I must trust him, or give up theattempt, I went up the lane with my sword under my arm, and my cloakloose on my shoulders. I met a man driving a donkey laden withfaggots. I saw no one else. It was already dusk between the walls,though light enough in the open country; but that was in my favour,my only regret being that as the town gates closed shortly afterhalf-past five, I could not defer my attempt until a still later hour.
Pausing in the shadow of the house while a man might count ten, Iimpressed on my memory the position of the particular window whichbore the knot; then I passed quickly into the street, which was stillfull of movement, and for a second, feeling myself safe fromobservation in the crowd, I stood looking at the front of the house.The door was shut. My heart sank when I saw this, for I had looked tofind it still open.
The feeling, however, that I could not wait, though time might presentmore than one opportunity, spurred me on. What I could do I must donow, at once. The sense that this was so being heavy upon me, I sawnothing for it but to use the knocker and gain admission, by fraud ifI could, and if not, by force. Accordingly I stepped briskly acrossthe kennel, and made for the entrance.
When I was within two paces of the steps, however, someone abruptlythrew the door open and stepped out. The man did not notice me, and Istood quickly aside, hoping that at the last minute my chance hadcome. Two men, who had apparently attended this first persondownstairs, stood respectfully behind him, holding lights. He paused amoment on the steps to adjust his cloak, and with more than a littlesurprise I recognised my acquaintance of the morning, M. de Bruhl.
I had scarcely time to identify him before he walked down the stepsswinging his cane, brushed carelessly past me, and was gone. The twomen looked after him awhile, shading their lights from the wind, andone saying something, the other laughed coarsely. The next moment theythrew the door to and went, as I saw by the passage of their light,into the room on the left of the hall.
Now was my time. I could have hoped for, prayed for, expected nobetter fortune than this. The door had rebounded slightly from thejamb, and stood open an inch or more. In a second I pushed it from megently, slid into the hall, and closed it behind me.
The door of the room on the left was wide open, and the light whichshone through the doorway--otherwise the hall was dark--as well as thevoices of the two men I had seen, warned me to be careful. I stood,scarcely daring to breathe, and looked about me. There was no mattingon the floor, no fire on the hearth. The hall felt cold, damp, anduninhabited. The state staircase rose in front of me, and presentlybifurcating, formed a gallery round the place. I looked up, and up,and far above me, in the dim heights of the second floor, I espied afaint light--perhaps, the reflection of a light.
A movement in the room on my left warned me that I had no time tolose, if I meant to act. At any minute one of the men might come outand discover me. With the utmost care I started on my journey. I stoleacross the stone floor of the hall easily and quietly enough, but Ifound the real difficulty begin when I came to the stairs. They wereof wood, and creaked and groaned under me to such an extent that, witheach step I trod, I expected the men to take the alarm. Fortunatelyall went well until I passed the first corner--I chose, of course, theleft-hand flight--then a board jumped under my foot with a crack whichsounded in the empty hall, and to my excited ears, as loud as apistol-shot. I was in two minds whether I should not on the instantmake a rush for it, but happily I stood still. One of the men came outand listened, and I heard the other ask, with an oath, what it was.
Ileant against the wall, holding my breath.
'Only that wench in one of her tantrums!' the man who had come outanswered, applying an epithet to her which I will not set down, butwhich I carried to his account in the event of our coming face to facepresently. 'She is quiet now. She may hammer and hammer, but----'
The rest I lost, as he passed through the doorway and went back to hisplace by the fire. But in one way his words were of advantage to me. Iconcluded that I need not be so very cautious now, seeing that theywould set down anything they heard to the same cause; and I sped onmore quickly. I had just gained the second floor landing when a loudnoise below--the opening of the street door and the heavy tread offeet in the hall--brought me to a temporary standstill. I lookedcautiously over the balustrade, and saw two men go across to the roomon the left. One of them spoke as he entered, chiding the otherknaves, I fancied, for leaving the door unbarred; and the tone, thoughnot the words, echoing sullenly up the staircase, struck a familiarchord in my memory. The voice was Fresnoy's!
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 61