"_Hein_! it is loaded. It would kill, then, if I fired--eh?" And then, with a sudden change of voice and manner: "Ah, bandit! move a step, utter the slightest cry, and you are a dead man! Throw down your poniard!"

Malsain looked at the barrel of the arquebus. It was steady as a rock, and behind the little black muzzle the match burned bravely; whilst behind the match was a red face with two blue eyes that looked as if they meant what their owner said. Malsain let his dagger drop with a clash.

Pierrebon then advanced a couple of paces nearer, still holding the arquebus at Malsain's breast.

"Now, my friend! Take that bridle from the peg at your hand and fasten your ankles together. What!--you hesitate?"

Malsain hissed something between his teeth, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the bridle from the peg.

"Go on! A running knot--lap it well round, and finish off! There!

That is right! You are no novice, I see, _mon vieux_!"

Malsain made no answer, but stood bolt upright before Pierrebon, his face grey, his one eye bloodshot, his lips livid. It is true that he had tied himself as loosely as possible, but still he was terribly crippled; and from his soul he regretted that he had not made a rush at Pierrebon, and chanced his fortune; but now this was hopeless.

Worse, however, was to come, and it came at once.

"Now," said Pierrebon, "fasten your wrist to your ankle--your left wrist."

"It is impossible," said Malsain thickly.

"Then I shall blow your brains out when I have counted three. One!"

Malsain looked about him with his red eye, and shuffled uneasily.

"Two!"

Malsain swore again, a nameless oath.

"Th----"

Malsain stooped down with the rapidity of lightning, and began fumbling with the yard or so of trailing rein.

He tried to deceive Pierrebon; but the candle gave enough light to see, and Pierrebon was sharp. There was no help for it, and at last it was done, badly done, but enough to utterly cripple Malsain. The final order now came:

"Now lie down on your face."

This was difficult; but there are circ.u.mstances under which men do all but impossible things, and Malsain performed the feat.

After this the worthy Pierrebon took a more active part in the binding of Malsain. Still holding the arquebus in one hand he unhitched another bridle from its peg. Then, placing the arquebus at _his_ feet, he drew his dagger and approached Malsain, upon whom he sat, and with a gentle p.r.i.c.k or so reminded him it was unsafe to struggle or cry. He fastened up his free arm, and finished off the work in an artistic manner. When it was over Malsain was like a trussed fowl. Pierrebon stepped back, and surveyed his work with the satisfaction of one who knows that he has done well.

"Ah, I had forgotten!" he exclaimed. Then he pulled from his pocket a 'kerchief. A touch at Malsain's throat with his poniard was hint enough. Malsain opened his mouth, and the handkerchief, rolled into a ball, was thrust inside.

Pierrebon fumbled once more in his pocket, and produced some stout twine. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction as he lashed it around Malsain's jaws, and felt at last that victory was his.

"It is complete--eh, _mon vieux_?"

And so saying he dragged Malsain with no tender hand across the pavement of the stable. There was a black, vicious-looking cob in one of the stalls. Pierrebon flung his victim on the straw near the beast.

"I should lie still," he said in warning; "the horse might kick."

Then he saddled up again, calmly selecting a third horse from the stable, from a stall where he saw some ladies' saddlery.

"This will do for mademoiselle," he muttered as he glanced around him with satisfaction; "all is ready here. And now for the ogre." Taking up the arquebus he looked at the priming, and made his way cautiously to the house.

CHAPTER IX

THE WHITE MASK

It is necessary to hark back a little now to the moment when Torquato Trotto, having given his instructions to Piero, went into the house.

The stairway was empty, for both I and my charge were with La Marmotte, and the Italian ran upstairs with a footfall as light as that of a cat.

On reaching the landing he stopped for a second, glanced around him, with the same feline caution that marked all his movements, and then, creeping forward on tiptoe, went along a corridor leading to a wing of the house.

At the extreme end of this gallery was a door, at which Trotto knocked softly. From within a strident voice said: "Come in!" Then followed an exclamation of pain, and a free oath.

Trotto smiled, shrugged his shoulders, as only an Italian can, pushed open the door, and entered the chamber. The spear-shaped flames of two tall candles but half lit the room, making a circle of wavering light.

Beyond all was in uncertain gloom, through which one could dimly see the old tapestry and ma.s.sive furniture of bygone years.

Where the light was brightest was an easy-chair, and there sat Simon of Orrain, with his bandaged right arm resting on a cushion, placed on a low table drawn close to him. As Trotto entered he looked up with a snarl.

"What is it? Did I not say I was to be left alone? Curse this arm!"

"Ah, excellency," and Trotto glanced at the throbbing arm, "you should have waited for Aramon's return, or taken us with you." But Simon broke in: "I tell you, Trotto, the plan was perfect, and if it had not been for the accident of that villain's coming our bird would have been here by this. Even when he came, if La Crotte had but stood his ground--but there! Give me some of that wine. My blood is red hot, and my throat on fire with the pain of this wound!"

Torquato Trotto filled a cup from a flagon that lay on the table near the Vidame. Simon took it from him with his left hand, drained it, and flung it from him, so that it struck the wainscoting of the wall, and fell with a crash on the floor.

"La Crotte shall hang for this," he went on savagely. "The cur! the coward!"

"You will make your wound worse, excellency. Be calm! There is time for things to mend."

"Time! When the whole affair has been bungled--and by you."

"By me, excellency?"

"Yes; if you had given me Piero and Malsain instead of those serving-wenches Billot and La Crotte."

Torquato lifted a deprecating hand. "They did well before, excellency; and Billot could not have done better, for he is dead, you say. And as for La Crotte----"

"He shall hang--hang to the first tree."

"As your excellency pleases. He has, however, to be caught first. But in the meantime I have intruded on you because I think we can yet save the game."

"Ugh!"

"Your excellency, I have a plan; and I think we win the odd trick."

"Well, what is your brilliant idea?"