"The getting there is possible, but it is the retreat that I am doubtful of."

"I have provided for that." And opening a box that lay near her she pulled out a short coil of stout rope with an iron hook fixed at each end.

"Fasten one hook to the window there, and throw me the rope. I will fasten the other here, and you will have a pa.s.sage back. I will wait here for you."

I glanced out of the window again. On the left was the Pa.s.sage of Pity with its dreary, deserted houses, on the right, above me, was a glimpse of sky. Now and again we heard the cooing of pigeons and the flutter of their wings amongst the eaves, but except for this there was no sound, and we were perfectly un.o.bserved.

Removing my boots and discarding my sword I climbed out of the window, resting my feet on the ledge beneath it. Cautiously rising to a standing position I found I could see clearly into the room opposite.

It was unoccupied, but, so far from being empty, was filled with books and piles of doc.u.ments. It looked, indeed, as if M. de Mouchy's study had overrun itself into this room. I had, however, made up my mind to take the risk of being present at this meeting whatever the cost might be, and so after another and careful look began the attempt. Between the opposite window and myself was a gap of a little over three feet, so that it was impossible to reach there. Thanks, however, to the forethought of La Marmotte I was enabled to overcome this difficulty, and after a couple of tries, during which the noise made was such as would have certainly aroused attention had anyone been at hand, I succeeded in fixing one of the iron hooks attached to the rope to the ledge of the window. Then, after a strain to test the rope, I let myself swing across the chasm, and found foothold on the opposite ledge. Once there matters were easy, and in a trice I had pa.s.sed through the window.

CHAPTER XXII

THE TABLETS OF DOM ANTOINE DE MOUCHY

A quick glance around showed me I was alone. Turning back to the window I swung the free end of the rope to La Marmotte. She caught it, drew it in, and closed the window over it as far as it would go.

Through the slight opening I saw for an instant the glow of the candle.

Then the rope tightened, and the light went out. I crept softly to a door on my right, and standing there listened intently. All was silence. I tried the door; it opened, and I saw before me De Mouchy's study. His table, littered with papers, was almost in the centre of the room. Near the window was a large carved chest. The walls were lined with books, and three or four bookcases, filled with dust-laden volumes, projected at right angles from them. In truth, it seemed as if Dom Antoine owned a library that might rival that of the Abbey of St. Victor.

I made up my mind to go a step farther than La Marmotte's suggestion, and as the chances of discovery were equal whether I remained in the outer room or here I decided to stay where I was. Between the wall and one of the projecting bookshelves there was s.p.a.ce sufficient for a man to stand perfectly concealed, unless anyone chose to come round the bookcase. Here, then, I took up my position, trusting much to luck, as one has to do in a desperate enterprise, and relying on the chance that De Mouchy would never suspect that anyone would dare to act as I was doing in broad daylight, for it was not much beyond five o'clock in the afternoon.

I had not long to wait. Presently I heard a scratching at a door opposite to that by which I had entered the room. There was a murmured word or so, then the door opened, and Dom Antoine de Mouchy stepped in, bearing in his arms an immense black cat. Where the afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the carved chest he placed the beast, stroking its back once or twice, and then turned, and stood for a moment facing his table.

As he stood there, in the black robes and skull-cap of a doctor of the Sorbonne, I took careful stock of him, for it was he who, years past, had doomed me to a frightful death, and who had shared with Simon and Diane de Poitiers the remains of my property. He was past middle life, with a frame yet strong and vigorous. Cruelty and avarice had set their seals on his broad face. His cheek-bones were high as those of a Tartar, and the small and sunken eyes had a restless, savage look in them--the look of a tiger; and no tiger ever thirsted for blood more ferociously than Dom Antoine de Mouchy, Doctor of the Sorbonne, and President of the Chambre Ardente, thirsted for the blood of his fellow-creatures.

Twice he glanced around him, and then sitting at his table was soon busily employed in jotting down something on his tablets. After a while he stopped, and some thought moved him to silent laughter.

Leaning back he let his glance travel round the room, and then arrested it once more on his tablets.

"Ha, ha!" he laughed out loudly this time, "this is a rare dish of fried fish! p.r.i.c.k up your ears, t.i.ti!" And reaching out a long arm he stroked the fur of the huge cat that sat crouched on the coffer, an occasional shiver running through its body. It was old, very old, as I could see.

At De Mouchy's voice and the touch of his hand the creature rose slowly, turned upon Dom Antoine a pair of green eyes from which the sight had long since fled, and hissed like an angry snake. De Mouchy laughed again as he went on:

"You agree--eh? Well, listen to the names--Huguenots--Christaudins--Sp.a.w.n of Geneva--whose bodies shall perish as their souls, and whose goods shall come to the righteous--that is, to me, t.i.ti."

For a moment light seemed to come back to those sightless eyes, and with a purr, as if it understood, the great cat leaped lightly on to the table and sat before De Mouchy, whilst the latter put one finger on the tablets, and spoke again:

"_Mon vieux_! the poor fisherman has netted some fine gold-fish this time. No little sprats of tailors of the Rue St. Antoine or out-at-heel scholars--but fine, fat, golden carp. The pity of it, t.i.ti, that the great ones of the land will take toll of this haul--t.i.the and fee; but there will be something left for you and for me--you understand?"

The cat snarled, as though it had followed every word, and De Mouchy went on, carrying out his terrible humour:

"Good! You cannot speak nor see but you can hear, and so listen!

First--the Church first always, t.i.ti--comes Odet de Coligny, Cardinal de Chatillon, Bishop of Beauvais--a traitor--a wolf who has stolen into the fold of Christ--with a hundred thousand livres a year of income!"

He paused, and looked at the cat, with a snarl on his lips as evil as that on those of his familiar.

"Secondly, the High n.o.bility--Gaspard de Coligny, High Admiral of France, the tallest poppy in the garden of heresy, t.i.ti.

"Thirdly, the Law--in the person of Maitre Anne du Bourg, an unjust judge; but you and I will change his judgment seat for a felon's dock, and give him a garment of red flames for his red robes of office."

The cat mewed as De Mouchy went on: "There are many more, my friend, and one in special, against whom we dare not move as yet, for he bears the lilies of France on his shield. But let us on to the sweets, for we have dined well, and need a toothsome morsel. If you could see, _mon vieux_, and had set eyes on her, I should have my doubts of you also, for she is as the fairy light that draws the unwary into the Pit of Death. Can you guess? No! Then I will tell you. What think you of the Demoiselle de Paradis? Yes! Hiss, hiss! _Sus, sus_! On to the heretics, _mon brave_!"

And as the cat rose on its tottering limbs, arched its back, and snarled, the man leaned back snarling also, for the blood madness was on him, and he was alone, and had let himself go utterly.

At this moment this strange scene was interrupted by a sharp, imperious knock at the door, and as De Mouchy, with a start, swung round his chair and rose to his feet the door was pushed open without further ceremony, and he saw before him the beautiful but pitiless face of Diane de Poitiers, and behind her stood Simon of Orrain.

As De Mouchy stepped forward to meet his visitors with a cringing air, the cat, less of a hypocrite than its master, retreated to the far end of the table, and began to hiss like a boiling kettle.

"I did not expect you yet, madame," began De Mouchy; but Diane de Poitiers broke in upon his speech:

"It does not matter; let us to business. But away with that hideous cat first!" And she pointed with her fan at t.i.ti, who stood glaring at her with his sightless eyes.

"He is a good adviser, madame," grinned De Mouchy; but she stamped her foot.

"It looks like a devil. Away with it! else I shall ask Orrain to fling it through the window."

Simon smiled grimly, and stretched out a long, thin arm; but with a sullen look on his face De Mouchy lifted his pet in his arms, and, opening the door of the adjoining room, thrust it therein, shutting the door upon it. It was, indeed, a lucky change of plan I had made. Had I been behind that door discovery was certain.

The d.u.c.h.ess had seated herself in De Mouchy's chair, and coolly lifting up the tablets ran her eyes over them. Simon flung himself upon the coffer, his sword between his knees, and began gnawing at his long moustache, whilst De Mouchy stood between the two, his deep-set eyes shifting from one to the other.

Suddenly Diane's red lips curved into a smile.

"_Eh bien_, De Mouchy! But you are building fine castles in Spain here! See this, Orrain; he thinks to net Chatillon, the Admiral, and the First Prince of the Blood!" And she broke into merry laughter.

"And why not, madame?" scowled De Mouchy.

Diane de Poitiers checked her laugh. "For the simple reason that the house of Chatillon has become wise over D'Andelot's affair, and will not set foot in Paris. As for Vendome, he must be dealt with differently." And her dark eyes flashed ominously.

"Put the tablets aside for the present," Simon cut in, "and let us not argue. We each form an angle of a triangle, and the triangle will be nothing at all if one of the angles is taken away. Let us discuss measures; we will take the names after. How did my proposal go at the council to-day?"

"Approved," said De Mouchy. "And the Chambre Ardente can act whenever the said court thinks fit."

"That is, when you, as president, think fit?"

"Precisely, Monsieur le Vidame."

"This, however, is not enough," Simon went on. "Another little suggestion of mine, the suspension of the edicts, made, possibly, by madame's merciful intercession with the King, has borne good fruit, and Paris is full of heretics. But I presume that it is neither their bodies nor their souls that we desire." And he looked at his two companions.

De Mouchy preserved a scowling silence, but with a flush on her face the d.u.c.h.ess said:

"I do not follow you, monsieur. We are good Christians, and we work for Holy Church."

Simon leaned back, his knee between his clasped hands, and laughed a bitter, mocking laugh.

"Eternal Blue! For Holy Church! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! Madame, those sweet lips of yours drop pearls of wisdom." And he rocked to and fro.

Deeper grew the crimson on the d.u.c.h.ess' cheek, and she opened and shut her fan with an angry snap. She tried to say something; but her words died away in a stammer, and her eyes drooped before Simon's cold and mocking look.

"Come," said he, the master-vampire, "let us leave this talk of Holy Church for the salons and the council. We three know what we want, and to get it we need a grant from the King, giving in equal shares all the properties and goods of condemned heretics in Paris, which by law are escheat to the Crown, to madame here, the crescent moon of France; to you, most righteous judge; and to me, Simon, Vidame d'Orrain. This done, we can begin to play."