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The King's Esquires: The Jewel of France, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 31. Leoni's Weapon |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. LEONI'S WEAPON But as Hurst made a step forward to summon the guard the King caught him by the wrist. "By my faith," he ejaculated, "there is black treachery here! Am I in my own palace or in a tavern? These fellows come and go as if the place were their own. A mystery too. But by the crown I swear I'll solve it!" And for a few moments he stood fuming. "Here, Hurst," he said hoarsely, "your brains have been sharper than mine, and I'm beginning to think you are right about that portrait. Ambassador--poet--brilliant conversationalist--one who has won himself into favour with us all. Hah!" he went on. "He can be no Comte de la Seine! Can you ever trust a Frenchman? But come on!" And he led the way back into the long gallery. "I've got ears like a cat to-night," he said; "but unfortunately not the eyes of one. Surely those were footsteps down yonder?" "Yes, Sire," said Hurst. "Beneath that window--a white doublet!" "Yes," cried the King. "Come on!" "But the guard, Sire? Shall I gammon them?" "No, no," cried the King impatiently. "This is exciting. We will be our own guard, and find out the truth ourselves." The King and the chamberlain had not gone many yards along the gallery when they they came to a halt, for a figure barred the way. "Who goes there?" came from out of the gloom. "Pst!" said the King. "Young Carrbroke.--England!" he cried. The figure came nearer, into the light of a window--a slim figure in a white doublet; and the radiance of the moon flashed on a bared and shining sword. "Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, and he dropped on one knee. "Rise," said Henry. "You are on duty here?" "Yes, Sire." "Has anyone passed?" "No, Sire." "You are certain?" "Quite certain, Sire." "Good. Come, Hurst!" And the two proceeded on their way, turning the corner of the long gallery, passing from gloom to silvery light, and again into the dusk, as they walked beneath the windows, while at the angle the lustrous splendour was shed through red glass, falling brilliantly on the King's plumed hat, his sword and royal star, as the pair disappeared. Carrbroke turned and looked after the retreating figures. "I wish," he murmured, "that his Majesty had ordered me to follow him." And he stood gazing in the direction the King and chamberlain had taken, till growing weary, he stepped aside into the shadow, where he could half seat himself, half lean against the end of a great settee. "How I do hate this guard work of a night! Yes, and there's the music still going on. I just heard one strain. All bright and gay yonder, and here all dark and dull. But it's an honour, I suppose, to be on the watch over the ways to his Majesty's private apartments, and have him come and find me here. It means promotion some day, such private service as this. I wonder where French Denis is? Dancing with the prettiest girl he can find, I'll be bound. Oh dear, how dreary it is! And I feel as if I could lie down and go to sleep." Then with a start he was fully on the alert, ready to step out into such light as was shed through the window near. "His Majesty coming back," he muttered, for quick steps were heard approaching, and a few moments later he stepped quickly out to bar the way as he did a short time before, and with a feeling upon him that he would show his master how well he was on the alert. He challenged, fully believing that it was Henry and the chamberlain, and started violently on finding out his mistake, for it was Francis, who cried angrily: "Who are you?" "Carrbroke, M. le Comte. This is the way to his Majesty's private apartments. You cannot pass here." In an instant Leoni had glided alongside, to lay his hand softly on the youth's arm. "My dear young friend," he said, "you do not recognise who it is speaking. It is the King's friend, the Comte de la Seine. The ballroom was hot, and these corridors calm, cool, and refreshing. The Comte is only going round this way to reach his apartment. We can reach it down this passage, can we not?" "No, sir," said Carrbroke quietly. "I am sorry to have to turn you back, but you must seek some other way. I am on guard here, and it is his Majesty's commands that no one shall pass this private corridor by night--and no wonder," thought the lad, as he recalled his discovery of the private doorway not far from where they stood. Francis uttered an impatient growl. "Tell him," he said angrily in French, to Leoni--"tell him I object to being treated like a prisoner"--words which Leoni translated, in the belief that they were not understood. "The Comte de la Seine says, Monsieur Carrbroke, that surely his Majesty would make an exception in favour of his friend." "I regret it much," was the reply, "but unless the King gives me such orders in contradiction of those which I have received, I cannot let you pass. Once more, gentlemen, it is impossible, and you must return. Did you hear me, M. Saint Simon? Ah, sir, you--" He said no more, for Saint Simon had passed onward, as if to go on in spite of all that had been said, but only to turn quickly and seize his arms from behind, while at the same moment his speech was cut short by Leoni's hand--the subtle Franco-Italian having literally glided at him to clap a strongly smelling hand, moist with some pungent fluid, across his mouth. The action seemed to the lad as instantaneous as its effect. He made a bold brave struggle, uttering a groaning half-stifled sound, and he vainly strove to free himself from the pinioning hands of Saint Simon; while, as if through a misty dream, he saw with starting eyes the dim figure of his master's guest straight before him, and pointing a stiletto at his throat. The next minute Saint Simon, in obedience to the whispered orders of Leoni, had raised the helpless lad in his arms. "Is there to be no end to this black night's work?" muttered Francis angrily. "I don't know how it is. I don't think I took too much of my brother Henry's wine, for I wanted to dance; but my head is all confused and strange." "It was the heat of the room, perhaps, sir," said Leoni. "Perhaps so. The place was hot and stifling," said Francis. "There are moments when my brain seems to whirl, and things go round. Did I go to sleep?" "Yes, sir; you were certainly insensible to all that passed for a time." "Of course I was," said the King angrily, "if I was asleep; but why don't you say so? Here, I don't know what's the matter with me. I must have dreamed that you took me by the wrist and led me along one of these dark galleries, to stop and lean against some great piece of furniture while something was going on. Then all was dark and strange again, and I seemed to be going for ever along dark passages, till I felt the fresh air coming in through an open window looking out upon the terrace. Well, come, Saint Simon; that was not dreaming." "No, sir," said the young courtier drily. "You were suffering from excitement, sir," said Leoni quietly. "A touch of vertigo. You have been doing too much of late. But you feel better now?" "Oh yes, better now--and worse, for I am not certain but what this rough dealing with that boy is not part of another dream." "That is no dream, sir," said Leoni meaningly; "but be silent and let me guide. We are on our way to make our escape." "Escape!" whispered back the King excitedly. "Then--then--oh, it's coming back quite clearly. You have tried and failed?" "Hist! Silence, Comte!" whispered Leoni, in a commanding tone, as he turned upon the speaker, but without taking his hand from Carrbroke's lips. "Our task is nearly at an end, sir, and I will answer to you later on.--Now, Saint Simon, lay the boy quickly on that couch." "Have you killed him?" whispered Francis. "No, sir; only plunged him into a deep sleep.--That's right, Saint Simon." And then in a mocking tone, "I am afraid that the faithful sentinel will be in trouble when they find him here asleep. I didn't think to find him here. Now, quick, before we are interrupted again." And he moved a few steps down the gallery, passing his hand along the hangings which veiled the panelled wall. "Somewhere here," he muttered; "somewhere here. I seem to know the place so well." "Leoni," growled the King, "this night will end in our disgrace, and if it does--" "Hist, sir! there is a way out here," whispered Leoni. "You hinder and confuse me, and at a time like this, when everything points to success, you--ah, here it is!" For his hand had at last come in contact with the boss, which he turned quickly, pressed hard, making the concealed door swing back, and then stooped in the gloom to raise the arras. "Now, sir; through here--quick!" "What!" said Francis sharply. "Go through there into what may be a trap?" Leoni made no reply, but turned to Saint Simon. "Through with you," he whispered, with a contemptuous ring in his voice. "I would lead, but I must come last to close the way, for they must not know the route we have taken in our flight." The young officer passed through without a word, and, half ashamed of his hesitation, Francis followed, to have his hand seized in the darkness by Saint Simon, who led him for a few yards along the dark passage, where they stopped listening, to hear Leoni close the door with a faint, half-smothered click. Leoni joined them the next moment, "Let me pass now and go first," he whispered. "The passage is very narrow, and dark as dark. Thanks, Saint Simon," he continued, as he squeezed by him; and then, as if to himself, but loud enough for Francis to hear, "and then if there is any trap or pitfall in the way I shall be the sufferer, and they will hear me and escape. Ah," he continued to himself, "the way seems easy, and what did the lad say?--that it led after several turns to some stairs which descended to the ground floor, and finally to a door which opened upon a bosky portion of the terrace, and from there led on through various alleys to the river, a flight of steps, and a boat. Ah, a good way to escape; but we must have our horses, and trust to them. Well, once within the grounds--I have not been here all these days for nothing--and it will go hard if I do not find my way to the stabling, where Denis should be waiting with the ready saddled steeds, if he has done his duty as I bade." As he thought this over to himself, breaking it up, as it were, into sentences between which were whispered words of encouragement to those who followed, bidding them come on, telling them that all was clear, and to beware of "this angle," and the like, he passed on and on with outstretched hands in front, his fingers gliding on either side over smooth stone walls, till at last he was suddenly checked by a blank. "Ah!" he muttered, as he felt about cautiously. "This should be the top of the steps." And so it proved; for, proceeding carefully from the angle along to his left, his advanced foot, as he glided it over the floor, rested on an edge. "The topmost stair," he muttered. Making certain that it was, Leoni uttered fresh warnings, and then began to descend, followed slowly by his companions. At the bottom they proceeded for a while upon the level, when he was brought up short by his fingers encountering on one side the great iron pintle of a hinge, while the other touched the edge of a stone rebate, into which a heavy door was sunk. "Hah!" he uttered, with a sigh of relief. "Here is the way out of this kingly fox-burrow." And his hand glided down the edge of the door till it came in contact with a huge lock, about which for a few moments his fingers played, while a chill ran through him, filling him with despair, for the truth had come upon him like a flash: there was no key in the lock; the door was fast; and just in this hour of triumph they were as much prisoners as if they were in a cell. "Well, Leoni," whispered Francis, "why are you stopping? This place makes me feel as if I could not breathe." "I am not stopping, sir," said the doctor bitterly; "I have been stopped." _ |
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