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 massive 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?"

Trotto coughed. "But the risk, excellency, is greatly increased now that this man is mixed up in the affair."

Simon straightened himself in his chair and looked at the captain.

"I suppose you want more money. Well, what is your plan?"

"With your excellency's permission I will keep that to myself, for a plan is a plan when one head holds it. But if I were to place your prize in your hands by tomorrow morning?"

"Impossible!"

"But I say it is possible."

"Then five hundred crowns the day you reach Paris."

Trotto shook his head. "It could be done for a thousand, excellency—for certain."

Simon's eyes seemed to sink back deeper into their hollow sockets, and his face became paler, if possible.

"A thousand devils! Impossible! It's a fortune!"

"Your excellency is playing for a fortune; and this time we win—faith of a gentleman! Make it a thousand crowns, and your bonny bird is yours with the dawn, and I will myself perform the wedding ceremony if you like."

"You?"

"Yes, excellency," and Trotto put his hand to the crown of his head. "My hair has grown, but, you will remember, I am none the less a priest for all that."

There was another silence. Simon knitted his brow, as if in thought.
Then he cursed again at his wounded arm, and spoke:

"It is an exorbitant sum; but I agree on one condition."

"And that is?"

"If you fail you get nothing; you have sucked enough from me already."

"As your excellency pleases." And then, bending for an instant over the wounded arm: "He must have been a rare swordsman to have beaten you."

Simon writhed in his chair. "Beaten me! I had the dog at my mercy, but was not quick enough in the last parry."

"Ah, excellency, 'tis always that little delay that causes accidents like this." And Trotto made a gesture towards the wounded arm; but Simon snarled at him:

"Don't touch it, fool! Ugh! how it stings! There is one consolation, however—that he must be squirming himself with pain now."

"Eh! Then you touched him?"

"Twice, Trotto, twice!"

"Ah! that accounts for his wearing his cloak so tightly over his left shoulder."

Simon started: "Wearing his cloak so tightly! Have you seen him?"

Torquato nodded, and the Vidame went on impatiently: "Are you dreaming, or am I? You have not been out of the house."

"But, excellency, benighted travellers might seek the house for rest and a guide to the ford of the Mable." At these words a red flush came over Simon's face, and he half rose from his chair.

"Here, here!" he exclaimed, his voice almost cracking with excitement—"here!—in Le Jaquemart! My sword, Trotto—quick!" And he shivered with pain as he attempted to stand; but Torquato made him sit back, and when he had succeeded told him what is already known.

"And so," he concluded, "Malsain has by this time disposed of the lackey, and La Marmotte is keeping the other birds amused until my return. When it is all settled," and Trotto laughed, "your excellency may make ready for the wedding, and La Marmotte will make a rare bridesmaid." With these words he bowed, and went to the door, but stopped at Simon's voice.

"Trotto!"

"Excellency!"

"Be sure, and fail not!"

"With a wounded man? Be happy, excellency! 'Twill be all over by midnight. I will have it done before Aramon returns, to save sharing the crowns. Good-night."

"Trotto!"

The captain put his head back through the door, and Simon said:

"Call me when 'tis over. I would see the carrion ere we put it away."

Trotto nodded, and closing the door left Simon of Orrain, full of stinging pains in his body and burning evil thoughts in his soul, and returning to us led the way to the supper-table. There, whilst we sat, mademoiselle told them of her peril, and how she was rescued, and as she concluded Trotto set down the cup of wine he was tasting, and turning to me, said:

"I congratulate you, monsieur. I trust, however, that your wounds do not hurt you?"

"Wounds!" exclaimed mademoiselle. "You are hurt, and you have said never a word! Why did you not tell me? You must have them seen to at once." And she rose from her seat. La Marmotte following her example, and Trotto added his voice to hers, and was thanked with a look.

"It is nothing. There is some mistake. I have but a scratch that will keep till the morning."

"But I insist," said mademoiselle. And Trotto put in with his soft voice: "Mademoiselle, I am something of a leech, and will see to monsieur's hurt at once." And then with a look at La Marmotte: "Perhaps mademoiselle would like to repose until my men return. I expect them every moment, and we could then arrange for your safe passage."

And just at this moment, through the open window that looked out upon the balcony, there came a scrambling noise, and the ivy outside shook and rustled, as though a heavy body were forcing its way through it. Trotto gave a quick glance over his shoulder, stepped out of the window, on to the balcony, and looked around him, whilst I took the opportunity to urge on mademoiselle to go and rest. I did so with the object of having Trotto alone for a little with me, and to test the situation. As I spoke La Marmotte looked at me with warning in her eyes, and her lips, which had paled under their paint, moved as if she were about to form some words, but could not speak. Ere matters could proceed further, however, Trotto came in, with a laugh. "There is nothing there," he said. "It must have been a cat; the wild cats here grow to enormous size." And then taking up a candlestick he continued: "I will myself see mademoiselle to her apartment." But La Marmotte spoke now.

"Mademoiselle comes to my room. There is none other ready."

The captain bowed and smiled. "I will light you there then," he said, and led the way to the door. As they went out La Marmotte, who was last, dropped her handkerchief, and stooping to recover it made a warning gesture to me; but I stared vacantly to my front.

As soon, however, as the door closed behind them, and I heard their footsteps along the gallery, I pulled out the white mask, and lifting the cover of a dish placed the mask within the dish and put back the cover. Then drawing my sword I laid it between my knees, and, resuming my seat, poured out some wine, and awaited Messire Torquato Trotto's return. It was a fortunate thing that the wild cats of Fontevrault were so large and heavy; and it was equally fortunate that Messire Trotto, ex-priest, and now bandit or freelance, was aware of the fact, else, perhaps, he might have examined the ledge that projected below the parapet, and seen there an animal which, though large and heavy, was of a different kind to the grey, striped prowlers of the forest. He would, in fact, have seen Pierrebon, who after vainly trying to get at Piero unobserved had determined to warn me, and succeeded with much difficulty in making his way thus far.

Through the screen of the ivy Pierrebon watched us in the room, and when I was alone he was about to step in at once, when he saw my actions, and guessed that I too was on the alert.

"Good!" he thought, "he knows too. I had better wait here till I am wanted. Ah! that is just the place!" Rising slowly, he climbed over the parapet, and, with his arquebus ready, leaned up against the wall, so that by moving his head slightly forward he could see into the room.

The night was warm and clear. A light breeze stirred the ivy, and shook the leaves of the old lime, by whose aid Pierrebon had made his ascent. Within I sat at the table, my cloak unclasped, now sipping my wine, now gently touching with my finger the dark patch on my sleeve near my shoulder. Without, Pierrebon stood on guard in the black shadow. Down below, Piero began to sing, as only men of his country can, and the deep bass voice, with all its liquid Italian words, pealed melodiously into the night.

I listened, murmuring to myself: "Strange! Here is one who can sing of his Alban hills and his Margarita one moment and cut a throat the next. But here they come!"

For Trotto's voice had stopped the singer, and then I heard them coming upstairs. The heavy step of Piero halted, however, in the passage, and Trotto entered alone, rubbing his hands together as usual, his white teeth shining between their setting of red lip and short black moustache and beard. Of a truth Messire Torquato was a handsome man if an evil one. He came in with a set smile on his face. "The ladies are safely at rest, and——"

"And we can while away the time with this wine, some more supper, and a little talk."

"But your wounds, monsieur! They must be attended to. I have told
Piero to bring up some salve and bandages."

"Bah!" I laughed, "let them keep. My wound, not wounds, is but a scratch, and hurts far less than the one that lost you that forefinger." And I pointed to his left hand, which wanted a forefinger.

The captain's eyes flashed, and he dropped his hand to his side, though he said, calmly enough:

"I got that at Volterra. I was there with the Caraffa."

"And I with Enghien. You see, we were comrades-in-arms without knowing it. 'Tis a pity we never met. We must fight our battles over again. Come, let us drink to the old days!"

"With all my heart," was the reply. "A moment; and I will tell Piero to wait." And he stepped to the door.

"Tell him to go to the devil," I said, and Trotto laughed, and after a word or so exchanged with Piero he closed the door and came back to his seat. "I have sent Piero off," he said, and pouring out a bumper for each of us he raised his cup, saying: "Pledge me this toast, monsieur. Long life to the bride and bridegroom!"

"Long life to the happy pair!" I clinked my cup with his, and drank, my mind working like a clock to find out what was meant, my eyes never moving from Trotto's face.

"Now," I said, "it is my turn. The wine, messire captain. And here is my toast: Confusion to the enemies of Bertrand Broussel!"

There was, perhaps, some want of heartiness in the captain's voice as he echoed the words but none in his manner of drinking, though he too began to look, as if seeking for a hidden meaning in my words, and his hand left his cup and dropped quietly to his side; but still I kept my eyes on his, as I said:

"That wine of yours is a rare cordial, captain; it makes me ravenous. Do you remember how we starved before Volterra?" And I filled my cup again.

"Yes—well."

"We were not birds of paradise exactly, and yet we had to live on air sometimes—and a thin enough diet it was. You will never guess what I had for supper once—try!"

"I am bad at guessing, monsieur."

"A mask."

"A mask!"

"Yes. It was not bad with a little olive oil and vinegar; but the very thought makes me hungry. What have you in that dish beside you?"

"Something better than a crape mask, I assure you." And Trotto put aside the cover, only to let it fall with a little crash as he stared at the white thing, and glanced up to meet my eyes, and hear my gibe.

"A little surprise I prepared for you—a delicate attention."

Trotto knew he was discovered. He began to breathe quickly, and his hand once more went down.

"Divide it, captain," I mocked; "there is just enough for two—ah!" And I caught his wrist as he made a sudden stab at me, and pulled him half over the table, springing backwards to my feet as I did so. In his confusion he pushed the table over, and fell sideways on the floor, dragging with him the tablecloth and the supper.

He was at my mercy. It needed but a thrust, and his life was ended; but I gave him his chance.

"Get up, and take your sword!"

Trotto rose, his face white, his lips bleeding, and snatching his sword from its sheath thrust at me, with a strange smile on his face. He had lied when he said Piero was gone. All unknown to me Piero had remained, and opening the door stood at my back, his knife in his hand. I saw not the death behind me, and stiff as I was from my wound my attention was fully taken up by Trotto, who was no mean artist, and fought like a cat at bay. But Pierrebon saw, and raised his arquebus. The bravo behind me was about to strike, when there was a flash, a loud report, and he rolled over a huge, limp, and lifeless mass. At the shot Trotto had sprung back with a gasp to the corner of the room, and crouched there like a rat, staring through the smoke at us, for Pierrebon had run to my side.

"Keep the door, Pierrebon," I said, and I stepped forward; but the
Italian was done.

"I yield," he said; "I have lost." And he lowered his sword; but between us there could be no parley.

"Put up your sword—put it up, or I run you through as you are!"

And because there was no help for it, save to fight, Trotto did so, but his hand shook, and his courage was gone. He made a little show of resistance; but it was nothing, and at the third or fourth pass he thrust too high. He was late in the recovery, and I ran him through the side.

"Jesus!" he screamed, "I am dead!"

Then he fell forward on his face, his fingers working convulsively.

"He is dead too!" said Pierrebon as he stooped over the body.

"Not yet," I said, and then for the first time I saw the huge figure of Piero lying stark, the knife still in his clutch, and I saw too what I owed Pierrebon, and wrung the honest fellow's hand.

"Come!" I said. "Now for mademoiselle, and we shall be off. There are others who will attend to these."

"A moment, monsieur! The arquebus is not loaded, and this, perhaps, will be more useful." So saying Pierrebon stooped and picked up Trotto's sword. As he did so he noticed the keys at the Italian's girdle.

"And this too," he added, as with a touch of the sharp sword he cut the light leather strap, and taking the keys followed me out into the gallery.