CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
IN THE GLOOMY GALLERY.
Leoni was the moving spirit of the adventure of what he felt to beanother daring attempt to escape; for Francis, under the influence ofthe medicament that he had administered, was like a puppet in his hands;while Saint Simon, big, manly, and strong, ready to draw and attack anywho should bar their way, spoke no word, but followed his leader's everygesture watchfully, suggesting nothing, doing nothing save that exactlywhich he was told.
As they stood outside the door and began to move along the corridor, theplace looked so lonely and the task so ridiculously easy, that thescheming, subtle doctor's heart smote him with a feeling of remorse.
It seemed to be so cruel, so cowardly, to escape and leave that bravelad, who was ready to sacrifice his life in his master's service, alonethere with his despair, waiting for the discovery that would probablyend with his death.
"Pish!" said Leoni to himself. "What is the boy to me? Nothing morethan a pawn upon the chessboard of life, one of the pieces I am usingfor the sake of France--France, my country, for which I have venturedthis. For what is this gay butterfly? King? Yes, the King upon thechessboard, whom it is my fate to move; and where I place him, there hestays. It is I, I in my calm, grave, unobtrusive way, who am the realKing of France--now nearly at the pinnacle of my ambition, or shall bewhen I have achieved these last moves. And yet I am not happy. It jarsupon me cruelly that I should have to leave this boy. Pooh! Absurd! Iwill not think about him," he muttered; and then with a silent mockinglaugh, "And yet what is he? Only, as I say, a pawn, which thenecessities of the position force me to sacrifice."
These thoughts flashed like lightning through his brain, as, graspingthe King's arm with one hand, he waved the other in the air as if in theact of casting all these thoughts behind him. But he winced the more,for the thought of Denis alone there in the King's chamber clung to himand seemed to press him down.
But there was stern work awaiting him, for he would not, he could notbelieve that their escape could be as easy as it seemed. The corridorleading to the great gallery near the King's apartment appearedperfectly deserted; neither guard nor gentleman in attendance seemed athand to hinder their approach to the arras which hid the secret door.But he did not believe and he would not trust so impossible a state ofthings.
Stopping suddenly close up to the panelled wall, he signed to SaintSimon to close up.
"Take the King's arm," he said; "he needs support. I am going forward.If you can make me out and the signal I give, follow quickly on. Butwait till I raise my hand."
He walked swiftly on, almost gliding like a shadow over the wall, forhis footsteps made no sound, while as he passed one candle which gaveout a feeble light a curious gleam flashed from one of his eyes.
The next moment he was past, and right in the King's gallery, stillwithout seeing anything to hinder his signalling to Saint Simon, andreaching safely the spot opposite to the secret door.
"If I were alone," he thought, "I have but to cross here, pass behindthe arras, make my way to the riverside, and then somehow I could, Iwould, reach France, with my country the richer for this night's work.But there is the King," he muttered softly; "there is the King." And hepressed himself back against the tapestry, looking in his sombre garb,in the faint light of the great place, like one of the needleworkfigures in the hangings.
But his heart was beating fast, for all at once and quite unexpectedthere was the sound of footsteps, so slow and measured that he knew theymust be those of a sentry; and the next minute a tall figure, dimlyseen, came in his measured way along the gallery, as if to pass him,while Leoni's hand slowly glided towards the hilt of his sword andclutched it fast.
He held his breath and nerved himself for the cat-like leap he wasprepared to make as the sentinel came abreast, for he felt that it wasimpossible that the man could pass him without his being seen.
But to the watcher's intense astonishment the sentry stopped short inthe centre of the gallery, when he was about a dozen yards away, turnedupon his heel, and began to retrace his steps. Leoni on the instantjudged that the man had come to the end of his beat, and if this were sothe task seemed easy, for by seizing the minute when his back was turnedand he was at the full extent of his monotonous tramp in the otherdirection, it seemed to the doctor that it would be easy to step acrossthe gallery, raise the arras, and pass into the secret way.
"One at a time," muttered Leoni; "one at a time. Easy for us; but can Imake my chief piece obey me and move alone?"
The disposition was upon the watcher of the sentry to glide back at onceto where he had left Saint Simon and the King; but he felt that he mustmake sure in this crisis of the adventure before he took his next step,and he waited, closely pressed up against the tapestry, looking morethan ever like an embroidered figure, as the sentry halted far down thegallery, softened by distance into a mere shadow, turned, and resumedhis pacing.
The task seemed harder than ever to stand pressed there against thepanelling, watching the coming of the stalwart guard, and it took allthe doctor's nerve and self-command to stand there so absolutely stillof body, while his nerves and thoughts were moving with an intensitythat literally thrilled.
"Coming towards his death," said Leoni mentally, as the man came on andon, gradually ceasing to be so shadow-like and dim as he advanced. "Hislife or mine. His life or mine. His life or mine," something withinhim seemed to keep on saying, till the end of the sentry's beat appearedto be quite over-passed and he was coming nearer, so near that Leonifelt he saw him at last and the crisis was there, when the man stopped,hesitated for a moment, then began pacing back just as before--but notquite, for almost as soon as his back was turned Leoni's command overhis nerves and muscles ceased, and he began to glide silently along bythe tapestried panels to reach Saint Simon and the King at last.
No word was spoken now but the single one "Follow," as Leoni softly tookthe King's hand and led him over the ground he so lately had traversed,pausing after a time as the trio came within sight of the sentry, andstanding close up against the wall, to wait till the man reached hisnearest point to the secret door to turn in his automaton-like fashionand begin marching back.
Leoni waited till the sentry half covered the distance he had totraverse, and then led the King swiftly and silently till they werenearly opposite the panel door, to pause once more--three shadowyfigures now--to wait there during the most crucial time, for the greattest was now at hand.
Could he trust the King to remain silent till the man turned back--if hedid turn back without distinguishing that he was not alone in the gloomygallery?
But Leoni was a man of resource, and to meet this difficulty he badeSaint Simon lie down at full-length close to the wall, while he pressedthe King behind the pedestal of a statue standing in a niche a few yardsaway.
It was a great risk, but the King seemed plunged in a deep sleep, and ata time like that something had to be risked. It was the daring of theplan that carried it through, and the fact that the sentry's perceptionswere dulled by habit. Hence it was that he came on, gazingintrospectively and seeing nothing but his own thoughts, which were ofthe near approaching time when he would be relieved, and return to theguard chamber, supper, and sleep.
Leoni hardly breathed as once more he watched the man come on nearer andnearer, apparently to his death, for this time Leoni softly drew thekeen stiletto that he wore, and crouched ready to ensure silence andsave the King if he were driven to the last extremity. But that was notto be.
The man came to the full extent of his paced-out beat, turned, andmarched back, while before he was half the distance to the other end thedoctor had glided across the gallery, raised the arras, and pressed theboss, fully expecting to find that the door was fast; but it yieldedsilently, and the doctor's heart leaped as he drew in a long deep breathof cool moist air.
Dropping the arras, he stood for a moment gazing after the shadowysentry, feeling startled to see how far he was still from the
end of hisbeat; and, acting contrary to the mode he had planned in hisdetermination to seize this opportunity if it could be done, he glidedswiftly across to where the King was standing, and caught him by thearm.
"Come," he whispered, with his lips to Francis's ear, when the Kingyielded as if he were a portion of the speaker's self, walking with himsilently till they were half across the gallery, when all at once abright light threw up into bold relief the figure of the sentry at thefar limit of his tramp, and the two fugitives stood out plainly beforeSaint Simon like two black silhouettes upon the distant glow.
"Lost!" sighed Leoni, as, utterly unnerved, he stood tightly pressingthe King's wrist, unable even to stir, but listening to the sounds ofvoices which came weirdly and whispering along the gallery--challenge,reply, and order of the changing guard.
Before recalling the fact that the bearers of the light were hardlylikely to discern them at so great a distance, he recovered himself andpressed on towards the door and raised the tapestry, when without wordof direction Francis passed through, followed by Leoni, and the arraswas dropped.
"Saint Simon," muttered the doctor, as without closing the door he ledthe King onward for about a dozen yards, before returning to the opendoor with the intention of kneeling down to raise the hangings slightlyand watch.
"Must I leave him behind--another?" he muttered; and then he started, toclap his hand to his dagger again and prepare to strike, for there was afaint rustling sound from the open door and then the faintest of faintclicks, followed by the expiration of a heavy breath as from one whocould contain it no longer.
Leoni stood with his arm raised on high and his stiletto pointingdownwards. The next moment it had dropped to his side, for from out ofthe darkness in front there came the whispered words:
"Are you there?"
"Saint Simon!" cried the doctor, not beneath his breath, for he was toomuch excited by his surprise to control his emotion, as he stretched outhis left hand to grip his follower by the arm. "I did not expect this,"he muttered.
"Too dangerous to stay," said Saint Simon.
"Yes, and you were right; it was bravely done."
"But what about the garden door? It will be fast."
"The saints forbid!" muttered Leoni. "Follow and attend the Comte. Iwill go on first and see."
He glided on with extended hands, expecting momentarily to touch theKing, but did not overtake him till the little landing was reached,where Francis was standing at the head of the flight of steps.
Leoni pressed past him and began to descend, holding his master oncemore by the hand, which he dropped as soon as they were at the foot, andthen passed on rapidly with his pulses throbbing and in a state ofungovernable excitement such as he had not felt since the commencementof the adventure.
But this was of short duration. Schooled now by previous experience,Leoni ran his hand along close to the angle at the top of the wall uponhis left, expecting moment by moment that it would come in contact withthe ledge. He was quite right. It did, and glided into the niche, whena chill seized upon his heart and made it cease its heavy beat.
The niche was empty!
By the King's orders the outer door must have been locked, and they wereprisoners as fast as ever, unless some other scheme could be devised.
For a few brief moments Leoni gave way to despair. Then with an angryejaculation he pressed on with extended hands, covered the few yardsmore that had to be passed before the door was reached, touched it, andswept his hands towards the lock, and once more no longer in fullcommand of his faculties, he uttered a faint cry of joy.
The key was in the lock.
The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of France Page 42