Why the Cardinal gave me this strange order I could not guess, but it was none of my business, so, taking the orator aside, I delivered the message word for word. The man's eyes sparkled with joy; he begged me to thank the Duke, and to add that he would remember the hint concerning Gaston of Orleans. More hopelessly perplexed than ever, I returned to Mazarin, and related what had pa.s.sed, on which he smiled with a satisfied air, and hurried me away.

"A clever rogue whose master should not begrudge him his wages!" he said with a quiet chuckle, "though he has made one grave mistake to-night. But what extraordinary luck! Surely my star must be in the ascendant! Ah, Martin, my friend, one need not necessarily be an astrologer to foretell the future."

From this speech I gathered two pieces of information. First, that we were on our way to the astrologer's, and second that our visit was in some way mixed up with the knowledge I had already obtained. The scene on the Pont Neuf I did not understand. The Black Mantle who had stirred up the people on behalf of Conde could be no friend to Mazarin, yet the Cardinal had sent me to him with a most astounding message.

Then again, every one knew that La Rochefoucauld was Conde's righthand man, but he was supposed to be far away from Paris.

Ah! That gave me a clue, and I looked at Mazarin in amazed wonder.

How clever he was! From a hint here and a word there he had discovered that a huge plot was on foot. I did not know the truth till later, but it may as well be set down here.

The Cardinal's enemies found they could accomplish nothing without Conde, but that prince and his brother were in prison. After a great deal of talk it was decided that La Rochefoucauld should visit Paris and stir up the people to demand Conde's release. The Black Mantle on the bridge was no ordinary citizen, but an agent paid by the prince's friends, and Mazarin by his mock message had gone right to the heart of the secret.

This successful stroke had put him in the best of humours, and from time to time he laughed quietly to himself as if enjoying some rich joke. Everywhere the crowd was cheering for Conde, and threatening to hang Mazarin, but my companion proceeded calmly on his journey.

"Through the Rue Croquin," said he presently; "it may be quieter in that direction, and I wish to think."

Unfortunately, about half-way along the street a mob of people, among whom were several Black Mantles, had gathered round a man who offered for sale copies of a song he was singing. He was a st.u.r.dy knave with a deep voice, and he sang so l.u.s.tily that it was impossible to avoid hearing every word.

These songs poured continually from the printing-presses of the Frondeurs, who thought, and perhaps rightly, that an ink-bottle could work more harm than a cannon. Many were witty and laughable, but this one was merely a string of vulgar abuse of the Queen-Mother.

"_Peste_," said I, losing my temper, "these hawkers are becoming too impudent."

"A _Mazarin_!" cried the man next to me. "Down with the _Mazarin_!"

"A fig for Mazarin! He is a man and can defend himself, but Anne of Austria is not only a Queen but a woman. I say shame on the Frenchmen who will let a woman be insulted."

"Monsieur is right," exclaimed one of the Black Mantles quickly; "though I bear no good-will to Anne of Austria."

The speaker who had thus interfered possessed a certain amount of influence; the crowd, instead of rushing forward, remained still; the mutterings died away, and some one, seizing the hawker's papers, trampled them in the mud, and shouted, "Down with Mazarin! Live the Queen!"

Others responded, and, pleased with the new cry, ran off yelling l.u.s.tily, "Down with Mazarin! Live the Queen!" while the miserable singer, a victim to the fickleness of popular favour, slunk away, muttering beneath his breath.

I do not know how the Cardinal felt at being mixed up in such an adventure, but he behaved like a man of spirit, and stood close at my side throughout the whole affair.

"_Ma foi!_" said he, as we moved on again, "you are not an over-prudent companion. Suppose one of those fellows had plucked at my cloak? I fancy both the Cardinal and his servant would have received but short shrift."

"We should have died for the Queen, my Lord!"

Mazarin shrugged his shoulders and answered drily, "I prefer my friends to live. It is my _enemies_ who should get themselves killed. But listen!" and from a distance came a tremendous roar of "Down with Mazarin! Live the Queen!"

"It is strange," muttered the Cardinal, "how these people will cheer for every one but me, yet I have done them more good than all the others put together. But come, unless the stars play me false, these same folk shall raise my name as high as the rest."

"Till the wind blows from a fresh quarter," I muttered, watching the hawker; and, indeed, it seemed to me that Mazarin, though a shrewd man, was striving for an empty honour.

However, there was little leisure for thinking just then; we walked on rapidly, turning to the right at the end of the Rue Croquin, and made our way through several side streets which were nearly deserted. After a long roundabout journey we approached the neighbourhood where Martin lived, when suddenly an officer whom I recognised as Roland Belloc stepped out from a hiding place.

"Have you posted your soldiers?" asked Mazarin quietly.

"Every avenue is guarded. No one can enter or leave the street unchallenged."

"The men are well out of sight?"

"It would take your Eminence a long time to discover them!" replied the veteran warrior smiling.

"That is well. People who saw them might be curious. There is nothing fresh going on yonder?" and he waved his hand in the direction of Martin's house.

"No, except that we arrived just in time to see Pillot going away."

"Did you secure him?"

"No, my Lord; I had no orders to detain him."

"Chut!" exclaimed Mazarin testily, "you should have acted without orders. By the way, did you know that La Rochefoucauld is in Paris?

The game grows very exciting," and he laughed softly at Belloc's astonishment.

"We must strike at once," said the old soldier.

"On the contrary, we will wait till the blow will do the most mischief.

That is why I shall spare the good Martin--for a time. Now I am going to pay my visit. There is not much chance of danger, but if the unexpected happens, why, in that case, a Cardinal's life is worth more than that of an astrologer. Eh? my trusty Belloc?"

"Perhaps it will be as well for me to accompany you," said the soldier.

"M. de Lalande, here, is a trusty fellow, but after all he is only a boy, and if----"

"The danger, if there be any, will come from the outside," interrupted the Cardinal. "Let your men keep strict watch, and we will take care of ourselves. Come;" and while Belloc slipped into a doorway, we turned the corner and crossed to that side of the street on which the astrologer's house stood.

Using his private signal Mazarin knocked boldly at the door; the window above us opened, and the servant, finding who his master's visitors were, hurried to let us in. The bolts were hastily shot back, the bars lowered, and then the door was thrown open by the obsequious porter, who stood bowing almost to the ground. Several lanterns suspended along the wall shed a dim light through the pa.s.sage, and a second man, bearing another lantern, hastily came forward to conduct us.

I could not help thinking as we stepped inside, how completely the astrologer held Mazarin in his power!

CHAPTER VIII.

The Plot is Discovered.

"Is your master at home?" asked the Cardinal.

"He is, my Lord," replied the man with a low bow; "but he is unwell, and has retired to rest."

"Ah, my poor Martin, what a misfortune! but lead the way; he will doubtless make an effort to receive an old friend like myself."

While one servant made the door fast, the other went forward with the lantern, and we followed; the Cardinal, a trifle uneasy, glancing keenly from side to side, as if half expecting to meet with some lurking enemy. Everything, however, seemed as usual. The lower part of the house was empty save for a woman cooking some savoury dish, and she took not the slightest notice of us.

The fellow with the lantern opened the door of the astrologer's room, and, lighting several wax candles, requested us to be seated while he informed his master of our presence.

As soon as he had gone, Mazarin ordered me to explore the part screened by the curtains, which I did, sword in hand.

"These conspirators are so crafty," he murmured, "that they make one cautious even in the house of a friend like the worthy Martin."