My Sword's My Fortune Part 43

"Come," said Raoul to us, "we are not likely to discover anything, but we shall feel more satisfied perhaps."

Taking a candle the landlord led the way, and we tramped after him, searching every room. Raoul knew the house thoroughly, so that nothing escaped us, and we were bound to admit that Pillot was not in the inn.

Leaving us outside, Raoul entered the public rooms, but he could neither find the dwarf nor gain any information of him, and at last we departed, my comrades feeling more than half inclined to believe that my eyes had deceived me.

However, as Raoul said, I should gain little even by finding Pillot.

If my cousin still lived--which I sincerely hoped--he could not be in much danger from Conde. Beneath all the gaiety and merriment of that night, it was easy to observe the shadow of coming trouble, and, indeed, before many days had pa.s.sed Paris was again in a state of turmoil.

Conde was almost openly in rebellion: the country trembled on the brink of civil war; of authority there was none save in the strong hand; every man did that which seemed right in his own eyes. Bands of armed ruffians paraded the streets, robbing and murdering as they pleased; the soldiers quarrelled among themselves; the n.o.bles fought in the public places, unsheathing their swords even in the Parliament House.

Thoroughly wearied of this meaningless strife, I longed for a strong man, such as our present most gracious King has proved, who should whip these snarling dogs back to their kennels.

One evening I sat at my window looking into the street below. The inhabitants of the Rue des Catonnes were having fine doings. From one end to the other they swarmed--a heaving ma.s.s of excited humanity. It was plain that a crisis had arrived. Paris was in rebellion, but against whom or what not one in a thousand knew or cared. For the moment the people were masters, and they made the most of their opportunity.

I watched their antics in amazement. Costly furniture, handsome brocades, rich tapestry and gorgeous hangings littered the street.

Grimy, unwashed ruffians swaggered about in clothes costly with lace, and plumed hats, some even carrying swords. They were in the merriest humour imaginable, but I knew well that a chance word might change their mirth into madness.

"They have plundered some n.o.bleman's house," I muttered. "I wonder who the victim is?"

I was still sitting at the window when the tramp of horses' feet sounded in the distance, and presently D'Artagnan appeared at the end of the street with a body of cavalry. For a minute or two it seemed as if the rioters would oppose his progress, but, having no leader, and perhaps being in no mood for a fight, they began to slink away by ones and twos into the houses. A few lingered half defiantly, but obtaining no support from their fellows, they also disappeared, and not a blow was struck as the soldiers rode through the street.

"Bravo!" I exclaimed, "the mischief may be stamped out yet. I wonder if the other quarters are quiet," and, buckling on my sword, I crossed the room just as a man in dishevelled dress rushed panting up the stairs.

I gazed at my unexpected visitor in amazement and rubbed my eyes. Were they playing me false? No! It was Pillot sure enough, and he was gasping for breath. Why had he come to me?

"Just in time, monsieur," he stammered as he leaned against the wall to recover.

"What is it?" I exclaimed. "What do you want? Quick, I am in a hurry."

"Wait, monsieur. Listen; you must! I ran all the way to the Rue Crillon, but you were not there."

"The Rue Crillon?" I interrupted, thinking of Madame Coutance and Marie. "Is anything the matter there? Are the ladies in danger?"

"No, no," he answered impatiently. "No one will harm them. They are as safe as at Aunay. It is of your cousin. He calls for you, monsieur; he is dying--and alone! Come with me, monsieur, quick! I must return at once; he may be dead!"

"A truce to this mummery," I said sternly. "What new trick is this?

Do you imagine I am to be trapped a second time? My cousin is dead and buried; the Abbe himself told me."

Pillot gazed at me in blank despair. His face was white, his lips twitched nervously, his words came with a sob.

"It is false, monsieur, false. I deceived the Abbe as I deceived all for my master's sake. I spread about the story of his death; I tricked De Retz because he could not be trusted. To save his own life he would have thrown your cousin to the wolves. It is each for himself, nowadays, monsieur. I wormed out their plots: they could not deceive Pillot. De Retz is a clever schemer, but the biggest rogues make mistakes. He believed my tale, and so did Conde. Only one man besides myself and M. de Lalande knew the truth, and I was obliged to trust him. As to your cousin I have guarded him against all comers; I have nursed him day and night; I have tricked the soldiers, but now the end is come. Prince and priest are welcome to the secret now."

"But what do you wish me to do?" I asked suspiciously.

"To soothe your cousin's last moments, monsieur; to close his eyes in death. He calls for you always."

If Pillot was playing a part, he was indeed a superb actor. Yet still I hesitated, so intense was the distrust with which in these days each regarded his neighbour.

"Do you doubt me, monsieur?" he asked. "Do I plead for the dying in vain? This is no trick. Why should I deceive you? We have been on opposite sides, but we have played the game fairly. I have even gone out of my way to serve you. It was I who sent the note warning you against our own trap."

"And saved my life after I had blundered into it!"

The dwarf watched my face as if his own life depended on my decision.

"Pillot," I said at length, "I will trust you. But, if you deceive me, so surely as you stand there I will run you through with my sword."

"Monsieur is welcome in any case," he answered, "if only he will come at once."

CHAPTER XXI

The Death of Henri.

Many a time I had left the house in the Rue des Catonnes with a very doubtful chance of returning, but I had rarely gone out with such a pressing sense of danger as now. Pillot's sudden appearance, his strange story, and the memory of former deceptions wrought on my nerves, and I almost wished Raoul or John Humphreys was with me.

The rioters, too, now that the soldiers had departed, returned to the street in a very quarrelsome humour. They stood in groups talking angrily; and one brawny ruffian, yelling "Death to the n.o.bles!" struck at me with a pike. Happily my sword was free and I pinked his arm; still it would have gone hard with me but for Pillot, who procured us a pa.s.sage by the use of some jargon well-known to these night-birds.

"Be cautious, monsieur," he said, "the mob is growing dangerous. The riot has not spread far, but to-morrow----!"

"Will the city rise?"

"Nothing can stop it, monsieur. These people are like wild animals.

You can excite them to a certain pitch, but beyond that----"

"What is the grievance now?" I asked, and Pillot shrugged his shoulders.

"There are many things, monsieur, but at present the chief is hunger.

The inhabitants of these quarters are half starved, and they want to know why. They will put the question very loudly in a day or two."

"Will they rise against the throne?"

"It all depends. A whim or a word will do it. Some one will cry 'Down with Conde!' and there is your revolution ready-made. The man who is starving does not stop to reason. The cry may be 'Down with the n.o.bles!'--no one knows as yet, and no one cares."

Presently I asked why he had ventured abroad on the day when the King was declared of age.

"My master was better then," he said, "and desired to learn how affairs were shaping. We heard a rumour that Conde would not be present; so I went to find out. It was a risky thing, and the sight of you frightened me."

"It need not have done; I wish my cousin no harm."

"True, monsieur, but we were not aware of that."

"Where have you hidden your master?"

"In an outhouse at La Boule d'Or. We dared not take him to the inn; he would have been discovered. I was afraid the other evening when you came with M. Beauchamp."

"Then you saw us?"

"I watched you enter, monsieur--and go away," and the rascal could not help chuckling.