"You are right," he said, "in what you say; there speaketh good sense.

Very well, then we must get away at once. But where shall we go? If we go to His Worship's house, we shall soon be discovered, and bring His Worship and Mistress Catherine with us to the rack and stake. If we go to my father's house in Kent, he will not be able to hide us; it will be the first place to which they will look."

He spread his arms out in a gesture of despair.

"You see," he said, "we in this room to-night have no refuge nor harbour. For a few hours, a day it may be, we can lie lost from vengeance. But after that no earthly power can save us. We have done the thing for which there is no pardon."

"I don't like, master, to wait for death in this way," Hull answered.

"But art wiser than I, and so it must be. But pr'ythee let us have a little course. The hounds may come, but let us run before them, and then, if death is at the end of it, well--well, there's an end on't; and so say I."

There was a voice behind them, a voice speaking in broken but fluent English.

"You have broken into my house, you have killed my servant, you have prevented me from calling for help from you, a King lies bound in my upper chamber, _v'la_! And now you go to run a little course, to scurry hither and thither before the dogs are at your throats. You are all prepared to die. I also am ready to die if it must be so, but it need not be so if you will listen to me."

"What mean you?" Johnnie said.

As he spoke he saw, with a mingling of surprise and disgust, that the big painted face of Madame La Motte was full of animation and excitement. She seemed as if the events of the last hour had but stirred her to endeavour, had given a fillip to her sluggish life.

More astonishing than all, she rose from her chair, gathering together her vast, unwieldy bulk, came round from behind the table, and joined their conference almost with vivacity.

"_Tiens_," she said, "there are other countries than this. An army beaten in an engagement is not always routed. Retreat is possible within friendly frontiers."

The horrible old creature had such a strength and personality about her that, with her blood-stained mouth, her great panting body, her trembling jewelled hands, she yet in that moment dominated them all.

"There is one last chance. At dawn--and dawn is near by--the ship _St.

Iago_ sails from the Thames for foreign parts. The master of the ship, Clark, is"--she lowered her voice and spoke only to Commendone--"is a client of mine here. He is much indebted to me in many ways, and ere day breaks we may all be aboard of her and sailing away. What is't to be, messieurs?"

They all looked at each other for a moment in silence.

Then Elizabeth put her arms round the old woman's neck and kissed her.

"Madame," she said, "surely G.o.d put this into your heart to save us all.

I will come with you, and Johnnie will come, and good John Hull withal, and so we may escape and live."

The old Frenchwoman patted the slim girl upon the back. "_Bien, cherie_," she said, "that's a thing done. I will look after you and be a mother to you, and so we will all be happy."

Commendone and his servant looked on in amazement. At this dreadful hour, in this moment of extremest peril, the wicked old woman seemed to take charge of them all. She did not seem wicked now, only genial and competent, though there was a tremor of fear in her voice and her movements were hurried and decisive.

"Jean-Marie," she called suddenly, and then, "Phut! I forgot. It is under the cushions. Well, we must even do without a messenger. Have you money, Master Commendone?"

Johnnie shook his head. "Not here."

"_Mais, mon Dieu!_ I have a plenty," she answered, "which is good for all of us. Wait you here."

She hurried away, and went up the stair towards the rooms above.

"Shall I follow her, master?" Hull said, his hand upon his dagger.

Johnnie shook his head.

"No," he answered, "she is in our boat. She must sink or swim with us."

They waited there for five or ten minutes, hearing the heavy noise of Madame's progress above their heads. They waited there, and as they did so the room seemed to become cold, their blood ran slowly within them, the three grouped themselves close together as if for mutual warmth and consolation.

Then they heard a high-pitched voice at the top of the stairs.

"Send your man up, Monsieur, send your man up. I have no strength to lift this bag."

At a nod from Johnnie, Hull ran up the stairs. In a moment more he came down, staggering under the burden of a great leather wallet slung over his shoulder, and was followed by Madame La Motte, now covered in a fur cloak and hood.

She held another on her arm. "Put it on, put it on," she said to Elizabeth, "quickly. We must get out of this. The dawn comes, the wind freshens, we have but an hour."

And then in the ghostly dawn the four people left the House of Shame, left it with the red door open to the winds, and hurried away towards the river.

None of them spoke. The old dame in her fur robe shuffled on with extraordinary vitality, past straggling houses, past inns from which nautical signs were hung, for a quarter of a mile towards the mud-marsh which fringed the pool of Thames. She walked down a causeway of stones, sunk in the mud and gravel, to the edge of the water.

It was now high tide and the four came out in the grey light upon a little stone quay where some sheds were set.

In front of one of them, heavily covered with tar, a lantern was still burning, wan and yellow in the coming light of day.

Madame La Motte kicked at the door of this shed with her high-heeled shoe. There was no response. She opened the door, burst into a stuffy, foetid place where two men were lying upon coils of rope. She stirred them with her foot, but they were in heavy sleep, and only groaned and snored in answer.

"I'll wake them, Madame," Johnnie said, "I'll stir them up," his voice full of that thin, high note which comes to those who feel themselves hunted. He clapped his hand to his side to find his sword; his fingers touched an empty scabbard. Then he remembered.

"I am swordless," he cried, forgetting everything else as he realised it.

Behind him there was a thud and a clanking, as John Hull dropped the leathern bag he held.

"Say not so, master," he said, and held out to the young man a sword in a scabbard of crimson leather, its hilt of gold wire, its guard set with emeralds and rubies, the belt which hung down on either side of the blade, of polished leather studded with little stars and bosses of gold.

"What is this?"

"Look you, sir, as we pa.s.sed out of Madame's room, I saw this sword leaning in a corner of the wall by the door. His Highness had left it there, doubtless, ere he went upstairs. 'So,' says I to myself, 'this is true spoil of war, and in especial for my master!'"

Johnnie took the sword, looked at it for a moment, and then unb.u.t.toned his own belt and girded it on.

"So shall it be for a remembrance to me," he said, "for now and always."

But he did not need to use it. Madame's exertions had been sufficient.

Her shrill, angry voice had wakened the watermen. They rose to their feet, wiped their eyes, and, seeing persons of quality before them, they hastened down the little hard and embarked the company in their wherry.

Then they pulled out into the stream. The tide was running fast and free towards the Nore, but they made for a large ship of quite six hundred tons, which was at anchor in mid-stream. When they came up to it, and caught the hanging ladder upon the quarter with a boat-hook, the deck was already busy with seamen in red caps, and a tarry, bearded old salt, his head tied up in a woollen cloth, was standing on the high p.o.o.p, and cursing the men below. Madame La Motte saw him first. She put two fat fingers in her mouth and gave a long whistle, like a street boy.

The captain looked round him, up into the rigging where the sailors were already busy upon the yards, looked to his right, looked to his left, and then straight down from the p.o.o.p upon the starboard quarter, and saw Madame La Motte. He stumbled down the steps on to the main deck, and peered over the bulwarks. "Mother of G.o.d!" he cried, "and what's this, so early in the morning?"

The old Frenchwoman shrieked up at him in her broken English. "_Tiens!

Tiens!_ Send your men to help us up, Captain Clark. Thou art not awake.

Do as I tell you."

The captain rubbed his eyes again, called out some orders, and in a moment or two Johnnie had mounted the ladder, and stood upon the deck.