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,having so 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 leaping uptwo steps at a time, and turning the angle abruptly, surprised me beforeI 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. Hewas a tall, handsome man, dark, and somewhat ruddy of complexion, andwas dressed in the extreme of Court fashion, in a suit of myrtle-greentrimmed with sable. He carried also a cloak lined with the same on hisarm. Beyond looking back when I reached the street, to see that he didnot follow me, I thought no more of him. But we were to meet again, andoften. Nay, had I then known all that was to be known I would have goneback and--But of that in another place.
The Rue de Valois, to which a tradesman, who was peering cautiously outof 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 thePARVIS of the Cathedral; the other and quieter end appeared to abut onthe west gate of the town. Feeling the importance of avoiding notice inthe neighbourhood of the house I sought, I strolled into the open spacein front of the Cathedral, and accosting two men who stood talkingthere, learned that the Ruelle d'Arcy was the third lane on the rightof the Rue de Valois, and some little distance along it. Armed with thisinformation I left them, and with my head bent down, and my cloak drawnabout the lower part of my face, as if I felt the east wind, I proceededdown the street until I reached the opening of the lane. Without lookingup 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 with theutmost dismay. For it completely upset all my calculations. In vainI measured with my eye the ten paces I had come; in vain I looked up,looked this way and that. I was nonplussed. No window opened on the laneat that point, nor, indeed, throughout its length. For it was bounded tothe end, as far as I could see, by dead-walls as of gardens.
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 to bevirtually useless, proving only that she was in trouble and in need ofhelp; perhaps that she had passed through this lane on her way from oneplace of confinement to another.
Thoroughly baffled and dispirited, I leant for awhile against the wall,brooding over the ill-luck which seemed to attend me in this, as inso 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 had notallowed myself to be robbed of the gold token, mademoiselle would havetrusted me; that if I had not brought her to so poor an abode as mymother's, she would not have been cajoled into following a stranger;finally, that if I had remained with her, and sent Simon to attend tothe horses in my place, no stranger would have gained access to 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 the slightest,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 rarely opened.Emerging at last and without result on the inner side of the cityramparts, I turned, and moodily retraced my steps through the lane,proceeding more slowly as I drew near to the Rue de Valois. This time,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 of twoand a part of a third were within the range of my eyes; and suddenly inone of these I discovered something which made my heart beat high withhope and expectation. The window in question was heavily grated; thatwhich I saw was tied to one of the bars. It was a small knot of somewhite stuff--linen apparently--and it seemed a trifle to the eye; butit was looped, as far as I could see from a distance, after the samefashion as the scrap of velvet I had in my pouch.
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 the lane,not ten, but twenty paces from the street. I ought to have been preparedfor 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 before me a gloomystronghold of brick, four-square, and built in the old Italian manner,with battlements at the top, and a small machicolation, little more thana string-course, above each story; this serving at once to lessen themonotony of the dead-walls, and to add to the frowning weight of theupper part. The windows were few and small, and the house lookeddamp and mouldy; lichens clotted the bricks, and moss filled thestring-courses. A low door opening from the lane into the gardennaturally attracted my attention; but it proved to be of abnormalstrength, and bolted both at the top and bottom.
Assured that nothing could be done on that side, and being unwilling toremain longer in the neighbourhood, lest I should attract attention, Ireturned to the street, and twice walked past the front of the house,seeing all I could with as little appearance of seeing anything as Icould compass. The front retreated somewhat from the line of the street,and was flanked on the farther side by stables. Only one chimney smoked,and that sparely. Three steps led up to imposing double doors, whichstood half open, and afforded a glimpse of a spacious hall and a statestaircase. Two men, apparently servants, lounged on the steps,
eatingchestnuts, and jesting with one another; and above the door were threeshields blazoned in colours. I saw with satisfaction, as I passed thesecond time, that the middle coat was that of Turenne impaling one whichI could not read--which thoroughly satisfied me that the bow of velvethad not lied; so that, without more ado, I turned homewards, formulatingmy 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; andthen 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 you tostay in the lane and hold the horses. You will run little more risk thanyou 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 my enterprise;but presently remarking that he made no attempt to draw back, and thatthough the sweat stood on his brow he set about such preparations aswere necessary--remembering also how long and kindly, and without pay orguerdon, he had served my mother, I began to see that here was somethingphenomenal; a man strange and beyond the ordinary, of whom it wasimpossible to predicate what he would do when he 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 come ofdelay, were she in such hands as Fresnoy's; but I had so little hope ofsuccess that I regarded the enterprise as desperate. The certain lossof my mother, however, and the low ebb of my fortunes, with theever-present sense of failure, contributed to render me indifferent torisks; and even when we were on our way, through by-streets known toSimon, to the farther end of the Ruelle d'Arcy, and the red and frostysunset shone in our faces, and gilded for a moment the dull eaves andgrey towers above us, I felt no softening. Whatever the end, there wasbut one in the world whom I should regret, or who would regret me; andshe hung, herself, on the verge of eternity.
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 the threehorses in the lane--which seemed as quiet and little frequented as inthe morning--near the end of it, and about a hundred paces or more fromthe 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 you aregoing to be attacked. In the first case, stay for me, of course; in thesecond, save yourself as you please. Lastly, if neither event occursbefore half-past five--you will hear the convent-bell yonder ring atthe half-hour--begone, and take the horses; they are yours, And oneword more,' I added hurriedly. 'If you can only get away with one horse,Simon, take the Cid. It is worth more than most men, and will not failyou 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'sface was flushed, he was breathing hard, his eyes seemed to be almoststarting from his head. He sat his horse shaking in every limb, and hadall the air of a man in a fit. I expected him to call me back; but hedid not, and reflecting that I must trust him, or give up the attempt,I went up the lane with my sword under my arm, and my cloak loose on myshoulders. I met a man driving a donkey laden with faggots. I saw no oneelse. It was already dusk between the walls, though light enough in theopen country; but that was in my favour, my only regret; being that asthe town gates closed shortly after half-past five, I could not defer myattempt 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 which borethe knot; then I passed quickly into the street, which was still full ofmovement, and for a second, feeling myself safe from observation in thecrowd, I stood looking at the front of the house. The door was shut. Myheart sank when I saw this, for I had looked to find 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 do now,at once. The sense that this was so being heavy upon me, I saw nothingfor it but to use the knocker and gain admission, by fraud if I could,and if not, by force. Accordingly I stepped briskly across the 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 had come.Two men, who had apparently attended this first person downstairs, stoodrespectfully behind him, holding lights. He paused a moment on the stepsto adjust his cloak, and with more than a little surprise I recognisedmy 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, and onesaying something, the other laughed coarsely. The next moment they threwthe door to and went, as I saw by the passage of their light, into theroom on the left of the hall.
Now was my time. I could have hoped for, prayed for, expected no betterfortune than this. The door had rebounded slightly from the jamb, andstood open an inch or more. In a second I pushed it from me gently, slidinto 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, andfar above me, in the dim heights of the second floor, I espied a faintlight--perhaps, the reflection of a light.
A movement in the room on my left warned me that I had no time to lose,if I meant to act. At any minute one of the men might come out anddiscover 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 were ofwood, and creaked and groaned under me to such an extent that, with eachstep I trod, I expected the men to take the alarm. Fortunately all wentwell until I passed the first corner--I chose, of course, the left-handflight--then a board jumped under my foot with a crack which sounded inthe empty hall, and to my excited ears, as loud as a pistol-shot. I wasin two minds whether I should not on the instant make a rush for it, buthappily I stood still. One of the men came out and listened, and I heardthe other ask, with an oath, what it was. I leant against the wall,holding my breath.
'Onl
y 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.I concluded that I need not be so very cautious now, seeing that theywould set down anything they heard to the same cause; and I sped on morequickly, I had just gained the second floor landing when a loud noisebelow--the opening of the street door and the heavy tread of feet in thehall--brought me to a temporary standstill. I looked cautiously over thebalustrade, and saw two men go across to the room on the left. Oneof them spoke as he entered, chiding the other knaves, I fancied, forleaving the door unbarred; and the tone, though not the words, echoingsullenly up the staircase, struck a familiar chord in my memory. Thevoice was Fresnoy's!