At last, just as my patience was worn to its last shred, I saw the glaze in the window begin to whiten, and almost immediately after heard footsteps on the landing. This was enough for me, and, unable to be still longer, I sprang out of bed and hastened to open the door myself. It admitted Jacques, and a figure in whom I should never have recognised the notary had I not known that it could be no other than Pantin. Jacques bore a tray loaded with refreshments, and Pantin held a lantern, for it was still dark, in one hand, and something that looked like the folds of a long cloak hung in the loop of his arm. The noise of their entrance awoke de Belin. With a muttered exclamation I did not catch, he roused himself, and, the candles being lit, we proceeded to make a hasty toilet. As I drew on my boots I saw they were yet wet and muddy, and was about to rate Jacques when Pantin anticipated, 'I told him to let them be so, monsieur, – you have a part to play; put this over your left eye.' And with these words he handed me a huge patch. Then, in place of my own hat, I found I had to wear a frayed cap of a dark sage-green velvet, with a scarecrow-looking white feather sticking from it. Lastly, Pantin flung over my shoulders a long cloak of the same colour as the cap, and seemingly as old. It fell almost down to my heels, and was fastened at the throat by a pair of leather straps in lieu of a clasp.

'Faith!' exclaimed the Vicompte, as he stood a little to one side and surveyed me, 'if you play up to your dress you are more likely to adorn, than raise the gallows Jacques spoke of.'

But I cut short his gibing with an impatient command to Pantin to start. The little man, however, demurred —

'You must eat something first, monsieur – not a step will I budge till you have done that.'

I forced myself to swallow a little, during which time our plans of overnight were hastily run over; Palin, who had joined us, declared he would go to the Princess Catherine, and seek her aid. We knew that was useless, but not desiring to thwart the old man let him have his will. It was decided, however, in case I had anything to communicate, that I should hasten to the Rue de Bourdonnais, and that in the meantime the Vicompte would see the Master-General at once and try what could be done. This being settled, and having ordered Jacques, who protested loudly, to stay behind, Pantin and I started off on our search for the Toison d'Or.

As he closed the entrance door behind him carefully, and Jacques turned the key, I looked up and down the Rue des Deux Mondes, but there was not a soul stirring.

''Tis the cold hour, monsieur,' said Pantin, shivering as he drew the remnant of a cloak he wore closer over his shoulders, 'and we are safe from all eyes,' and then I noticed for the first time that his feet were bare, and that he carried a pair of old shoes in one hand and an empty basket in the other.

'But you are not going like that, man!' I said; 'you will catch a fever.'

'We are going to the Faubourg St. Martin, monsieur, and there is no danger of the plague now.'

Though I could not but feel more than grateful for the way in which the good fellow was labouring for me, I said nothing, but followed him as he entered the mist that rose from the river and clung heavily to its banks.

It was, as Pantin had said, the cold hour, and all Paris was asleep. Above us the sky still swarmed with stars, though a pale band of light was girdling the horizon. Here and there in the heaving mist on the river we saw the feeble glimmer of a lanthorn that had survived through the night and still served to mark the spot where a boat was moored. All around us the outlines of the city rose in a brown silhouette; but the golden cross on the spire of Notre Dame had already caught the dawn and blazed like a beacon against the grey of the sky overhead.

As the Pont au Change was the latest of the bridges to close, it was the earliest to open; but when we came there we had to cool our heels for half an hour or so before we could pass through; and by that time the city was already beginning to awake. I could not repress a slight shudder as we passed the dreary walls of the Chatelet, just as the guard was being changed at the gate, and thought by how lucky a chance I had escaped being a guest of M. de Breze.

Once past the Chatelet we pushed on briskly, and by the time we had reached St. Jacques we were warm enough, despite the chillness of the morning. At a stall near the church, and hard by the Pont Notre Dame, Pantin purchased a quantity of vegetables, bidding me to keep a little ahead of him in future and guide him in this manner as far as I knew. Whilst he was filling his basket I turned up the Rue St. Martin, wondering what the notary's object could be in transforming himself into a street hawker. I went slowly, stopping every now and again to see if Pantin was following, and observed that he kept on the side of the road opposite to me, and ever and again kept calling out his wares in a monotonous sing-song tone. Thus far and for a space further I knew the road, and, observing that Pantin was able to keep me well in view, increased my pace until at last we came to the cross street near which I had met the jealous Mangel and his wife. Up the cross street I turned without hesitation, now almost facing the tall spire that had been my landmark, and I began to think I would be able to trace my way to the Toison d'Or without difficulty when I suddenly came to a standstill and faltered. For here there were half a dozen lanes that ran this way and that, and for the life of me I could not tell which was the one I had taken but a few hours before, so different did they look now to what they had appeared by moonlight. As I halted in a doubting manner Pantin hurried up, and, there being one or two near me, began to urge me to buy his cabbages. I made a pretence of putting him off, and then, the strangers having passed, I explained I had lost my bearings. 'I see a wine shop open across the road, chevalier – go in and call for a flask and await me,' he answered rapidly.

I nodded, and bidding him begone in a loud tone, swaggered across the street, and entering the den – it could be called by no other name – shouted for a litre of Beaugency, and flung myself down on a rough stool with a clatter of my sword and a great showing of the pistol butts that stuck out from my belt.

The cabaret had just opened, but early as I was I was not the first customer, for a man was sitting half-asleep and half-drunk on one of the foul-looking benches, and as I called for my wine, he rose up, muttering, 'Beaugency! He wants Beaugency – there is none here,' he went on in a maudlin manner, turning to me. 'At the Toison d'Or – '

I almost started at the words; but the landlord, whose face appeared from behind a cask at my shout, and whose countenance now showed the utmost anger at his old client's speech, suddenly seized him by the neck and hustled him from the room – 'The drunken knave!' he said with a great oath, 'to say that I kept no Beaugency – here, captain,' and he handed me a litre, with a much-stained glass, 'here is Beaugency that comes from More's own cellars,' and he looked knowingly at me.

Not wishing to hold converse with the fellow, I filled the glass, and then, flinging him a crown, bade him drink the rest of the bottle for good luck. The scoundrel drank it there and then, and as soon as he had done so returned to the charge.

'It is good wine – eh, captain?'

'It is,' I answered drily; but he was not to be denied.

'Monsieur is out early, I see.'

'Monsieur is out late, you mean,' I made answer, playing my part, and longing for Pantin to return.

'Ho! ho!' he roared; 'a good joke – captain, I do not know you, but tell me your name, and, curse me, if I do not drink your health in Arbois the day you ride to Montfaucon.'

'You will know my name soon enough,' I answered, humouring the fellow, 'and I promise to send you the Arbois the day I ride there. I may tell you that it was to the Toison d'Or I was recommended by my friends; but your Beaugency and your company are so good compère that I shall make this my house of call during my stay in the Faubourg St. Martin.'

'Damn the Toison d'Or,' he exclaimed, 'and you are a good fellow. Let me warn you in turn that the Toison d'Or is no longer safe.'

'What do you mean?' I asked, leaning forwards.

'For you, and for me, monsieur.'

'Ah – my luck is good as your wine,' and at that moment I caught sight of Pantin. 'There is another crown to drink to our friendship, and mind you keep as good a flask for me against my return at noon —au revoir! I have a business at my lodging.'

The wretch overwhelmed me with thanks and stood at the door watching me as I crossed over the street, with a warning glance to Pantin, and strolled slowly onwards. A little further on I turned to my left, keeping well in the middle of the road to avoid the filth and refuse thrown carelessly on each side, and as I turned I saw that my man had gone in. I was certain of one thing, that the Toison d'Or was not far off, and whilst I picked my way slowly along Pantin came up to me with his sing-song whine.

'Have you found it?' I asked in a low tone.

'No,' he sang out.

At this moment a figure rose up from the steps of a house where I had noticed it crouching, a few feet from me, and swung forwards.

'Hola! 'Tis Monsieur le Capitaine! Has your excellency tasted the Beaugency – the dog-poison. I tell your excellency there is but one house in the Faubourg where they sell it – the Toison d'Or.'

'Go and drink some there, then,' and I tossed him a piece of silver.

He picked it up from the road where it had fallen like a dog snatching at a bone, and then stood surveying the coin, which he held in the open palm of his hand.

'You might,' he said; 'they would not serve me,' and then with a drunken familiarity he came close to my elbow. 'I'll show you the Toison d'Or. It is there – the second turn to the left and then straight before you. As for me, I go back to taste Grigot's Beaugency – his dog-poison,' he repeated with the spiteful insistence of a man in his cups.

'The fool in his folly speaketh wisdom!' Pantin muttered under his breath, and then the man, staggering from me, attempted to go back whence he had been flung, but either the morning air was too strong for him, or else he was taken with a seizure of some kind, for ere he had gone ten paces he fell forwards on his face, and lay there in the slime of the street.

At any other time I would have stopped to assist the man, but now I could only look upon his condition as a direct interposition of Providence and I let him lay where he had fallen.

'Come, Pantin,' I cried, 'we have found the spot.'

Following the directions given by our guide we found he had not deceived us, and in a few minutes I was standing at the entrance of the blind passage, at one end of which was the Toison d'Or.

The wasps' nest was not yet awake, but as I stood for a moment discussing with Pantin what we should do next, a couple of men well muffled in cloaks passed down the lane on the opposite side, and it was all I could do to preserve an expression of unconcern on my face, for in one of the two I recognised Lafin. He, too, stooped for a moment, as if to fasten a point that had come undone, and, whilst doing so, fixed his eyes full on me. I met his gaze as one might look at a perfect stranger, but seeing he continued it, put my hand to the hilt of my sword with a scowl. The doubt on his face cleared on the instant to a look of relief, and I saw his thin lips curve into a slight smile of contempt as he rose and walked quietly after his companion. That swaggering movement of my hand to my sword-hilt had convinced him that I was one of the swashbucklers of the Faubourg St. Martin, and as such unworthy even of the contempt of the heir of the Vidame.

'Who is it?' asked Pantin, who had been observing me closely.

'Lafin.'

'Are you sure, monsieur?'

I nodded, and he went on, 'Then, monsieur, if I mistake not, M. le Vicompte is right, and we hunt the boar as well as the wolf. I will give word of this at the Arsenal before three hours are over.'

We then went slowly towards the Toison d'Or in the same order on which we had come up the Rue St. Martin, my heart full of strange misgivings at Lafin's presence in the street. The sun had already whitened the gables of the houses, but so narrow was the passage that it seemed as if it must always be in shadow. There were a few people stirring – one or two street urchins, who flung gibes at Pantin, but gave me a wide berth; half a dozen women, in whose faces sin and want had set their seals, and a man or two of the worst class. Beyond the high, dead wall which closed in the passage I could now see the tops of some trees, and judged from this that we were almost upon the walls of Paris, and in this, as it turned out, I was right. At last I came opposite the Toison d'Or. The gate leading into the little court was shut, and so was every window facing the street. The signboard was swinging sadly over the closed door, and at the first glance it looked as if the house was deserted. For a moment the thought struck me to knock boldly at the door, and when it was opened to force my way in and trust to luck for the rest, but I was cooled on the instant when I thought what failure meant. I would trust as little to chance as possible. I passed slowly on, and found that the Toison d'Or joined on to another, but much smaller, house which had its bound set to it by the wall that crossed the street. The sash of a window on the top story of this house was up, and as I came up to it the front door swung open and a man stood on the steps and looked me full in the face. As my glance passed him, I saw that the door opened into a room that was used apparently as a shop for all kinds of miscellaneous articles, and the man himself would have stood well for the picture of a thieves' fence, which, indeed, he was.

'A good morning, captain,' he said. 'Will you buy – or have you come to sell?' he asked, dropping his voice.

As he spoke, Pantin came up and began to importune the man from a safe distance to purchase his wares, but beyond a curse had no further attention paid to him, and with a disappointed air he went slowly back towards the Toison d'Or. It flashed upon me that something had fallen my way. 'I have come to buy compère,' I answered, and, stepping into the shop, began to examine a few cast-off doublets, and flung them aside, demanding one on which the gold lace was good. A woman joined the man at this time, and whilst they were rummaging amongst their stores I hastily ran over in my mind the plan I had formed. If I could get a lodging here I would be in a position to watch who came and went from the house and strike my blow with deliberation and certainty. So at last when the doublet was shown to me, though the price was exorbitant I paid it without demur, and on the man asking if it should be sent to my lodging, I pretended to hesitate for a moment, and then explaining that as I had just come to Paris, and was in search of a lodging, I would take the doublet with me.

'Monsieur must have scaled the city walls last night, then?' the man said with a sly look.

'Exactly,' I answered.

The woman, however, here cut in and explained that if it was a lodging I needed they could accommodate me.

'All the more if you buy as well as you do now, captain,' said the man.

'I will sell you as cheap as you want besides,' I answered, 'but let me see the rooms.'

'There is but one room, monsieur,' answered the woman, 'but it is large and furnished,' and then she led me up the stairway. The room was certainly large beyond the ordinary, but I was disappointed beyond measure at finding that it was at the back of the house and would prevent me from watching who came in and out of the Toison d'Or. I objected to the situation, saying that I wanted a room overlooking the street.

'There is none,' she answered shortly, 'but if monsieur desires to look on the street he may do so from the window at the end of this passage.'

She pointed to a narrow passage that led from the door of the room to a small hanging turret, and from the arched windows of this I saw that I could see all I wanted without being seen myself. The woman seemed to be of the same kidney as her husband, and drove a close bargain, and after much pretended haggling I closed with her terms, and arranged also for her to bring me my meals, explaining that for the next week or so I would stay indoors as my health was not good.

'I understand, monsieur,' she said, showing her teeth.

'Then it is settled, and I will step down and bring up the doublet which I left in the shop.' With these words I counted out the rent and the money for my board, coin by coin, into her hand, as if each piece I disgorged was my last, and then stepping down, found, as I expected, Pantin at the door.

The man was for ordering him away, but his wife insisted on making a purchase, in which I joined, and the fence going upstairs at that time, we three were left together. It was all important to get rid of the woman for a moment or so, and Pantin, seeing this, sold his whole basket load at a price so small that it raised even her astonishment.

'I have sold it for luck,' he said, 'but if madame wishes, I will sell her daily at the same rate.'

'Could you bring me fruit at the same price?' I asked.

'Why not?' he answered.

'Then bring me some to-morrow.'

'Certainly, captain. Where shall I put these, madame?'

But she bore them away herself, and this gave me the opportunity.

'Pantin,' I said, 'I have taken a room here – you understand?'

'And I,' he answered, 'have sold a cabbage to Babette. If you hear nothing more, meet me at dusk in the square behind St. Martin's.'

There was no time to say more, for we heard the fence coming back. Pantin went off down the street, and I, after a word or two with the man, and an order to his wife regarding my meals, went slowly up to my room.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE SKYLIGHT IN THE TOISON D'OR

Once back in my room, I flung off my cloak and took a survey of my new quarters. The room was long and low, and situated in the topmost story of the house. In one corner was a settle covered with a faded brocade, whilst on the other side there was a wardrobe and a few necessaries. The bed was placed at the extreme end of the room, and close to the window which overlooked the back of the house, and through which, from where I stood, the blue sky alone was visible, there was a table and a couple of chairs. Between the table and the bed intervened a clear space, about ten feet by six, covered with a coarse carpeting. If I am thus precise in my description, I would say I have done so in order to explain clearly what follows.

So far things were satisfactory enough, and beyond what I had a right to expect in such a locality. The one drawback was that I would be compelled to use the turret at the end of the passage for my watch, and thus run the risk of being observed from the other houses. In the meantime I determined to see exactly what could be effected from the window, and pushing the table aside, so as to get a better view, looked out. I then saw that the house I was in as well as the Toison d'Or were both built against the remains of the old walls of Paris. Below me there was a sheer drop of fifty or sixty feet, right into the bed of the abandoned fosse, which was covered by a thick undergrowth and full of débris, A little beyond the fosse was a portion of what was known as the new wall. This was perhaps in a more ruinous condition than the fortification it was supposed to have replaced. The brushwood grew thick and high against it, and I could see the gap where a breach had been effected, probably during the last siege, when the Sixteen and Madame de Montpensier held Paris against the two kings. Beyond that stretched the open country, where, had I a mind to linger on the view, I might have made out the windings of the river, the houses of Corneuve, and the woods of Dugny and Gonesse. But it was not of these I was thinking, for in that survey I had grasped the fact that de Gomeron could not have chosen a spot better suited for his purposes than the Toison d'Or. It was a part of Paris as secure as if it had been cut off from the city and set in some unknown island, such as those who sail to the New World describe. I thought at first of stopping any further concern with the window, but as I was turning away I looked rather particularly at the wall below me, and saw that a ledge ran along it about three feet below the window. Following its track with my eyes, I observed that it was carried along the face of the Toison d'Or, and in doing this I became aware that there was a window open at the back of Babette's house, and that this was situated on the same level as my room, but just about the middle instead of the extreme end, as mine was. When I considered the position of this window, and that its look-out was on a place where never a soul seemed to come, I could not but think that if Madame were in the Toison d'Or, that in all probability her room was there, and I swore bitterly to myself at the thought of how impossible it would be to reach her. I then craned out and looked upwards, and saw that my house was a half-story lower than the Toison d'Or, and that, whilst the latter had a high sloping roof, the portion of the building in which I was appeared to be a long and narrow terrace with a low machicolated parapet running along the edge. Thus if there were a door or window in the Toison d'Or that opened on to my roof, it would be possible to step out thereon; and then I drew back, my blood burning. If it was possible to step out from the Toison d'Or on to the roof of the house I occupied, it might be equally easy to get thence into the Toison d'Or. Taking my sword, I measured the distance of the ledge from the window-sill, and then, holding on to the mullions by one hand, stretched out as far as I could, and found I could just touch the top of the parapet with the point of my blade. In short, the position was this: that so hard and smooth was the outside of the wall, it was impossible for anything save a lizard to get along it to the window behind which I supposed Madame was prisoned; yet it was feasible, with the aid of a rope thrown over the grinning head of the gargoyle a little above me, or else over the low battlement of the parapet, to reach the roof, and the odds were in favour of there being some sort of a door or window that would give ingress thence into the Toison d'Or. I began after this to be a little more satisfied with my quarters, and determined to set about my explorations about the dinner hour, when most people would be within, and the chance of discovery reduced to a minimum. I did not feel justified in putting the matter off until nightfall, as I have often observed that there was no time so good as the one I had chosen for affairs which depended much for their results upon a surprise. I now stepped out of my room, and, walking along the passage, looked out from the little turret along the face of the street. It was more alive than I had ever seen it before, but the occupants were principally women and children, with a man or so here and there. I saw that whilst the sunlight fell in patchwork and long narrow stretches on the street, it was bright enough where I was, and I perceived I had a good excuse for spending such time as I intended to behind the embrasures of the turret. And this excuse I had to bring into play at once, for as I stood there I heard a footstep on the passage, and, turning, observed the woman of the house.

'I see,' she began, 'you are already in your turret.'

'I like the sun, my good woman, and have had a long journey.'

Something in my tone made her look at me oddly, and I began to wish I were well away from the keen scrutiny of her eyes. She dropped the tutoyer and asked:

'If monsieur is tired he would probably like his dinner earlier.'

'Morbleu! The very thing, madame, and as long a bottle of Beaugency as you can get with it.'

'It shall be done, monsieur,' and she turned to go.

It struck me as a little odd that she should have come up in this aimless manner; but reflecting that perhaps, after all, it was due to nothing more than a desire to gratify feminine curiosity by spying what I was about, I dismissed the matter.

After allowing a little time to elapse I descended to the shop and began carelessly running my eyes over the miscellaneous collection of articles therein. The fence followed me about, now recommending this thing and now that. At last I saw what looked to be a ball of rope lying in a corner and covered with dust.

'What is that?' I inquired, touching it with the point of my sword.

The man stooped without a word and, picking it up, dusted it carefully, then he unrolled a ladder of silken cord, about twelve or fifteen feet in length.

'This, captain,' he said, swinging it backwards and forwards, 'belonged, not so long ago, to M. de Bellievre, though you may not believe me.'

'I have no doubt you are speaking the truth, but it seems rather weak.'

'On the contrary, monsieur, will you test it and see?'

We managed to do this, by means of two hooks that were slung from a beam above us, in a manner to satisfy me that the ladder was sufficient to bear double my weight, and then, as if content with this, I flung it aside.

'Will not monsieur take it?' asked the man; 'it is cheap.'

'It is good enough,' I answered, 'if I had a business on hand, but at present I am waiting.'

'If monsieur has leisure I might be able to give him a hint that would be worth something in crowns.'

'I am lazy when in luck, compère. No, I will not take the ladder.'

'It may come in useful, though, and will occupy but a small space in monsieur's room' – and seeing that I appeared to waver – 'shall I take it up, I will let it go for ten crowns?'

'Five crowns or nothing,' I said firmly. 'But it is of the finest silk!'

'I do not want to buy – you can take my price or leave it.'

'Very well then, monsieur, thanks, and I will take it up myself.'

'You need not trouble, I am going up and will take it with me.'

With these words I took the ladder, folded in long loops, in my hand and went back to the turret. There I spent a good hour or so in re-examining it, and splicing one or two parts that seemed a trifle weak, at the same time keeping a wary eye on who passed and repassed the street, without, however, discovering anything to attract attention. Finally, the woman brought up my dinner, and I managed to eat, after a fashion, but made more play with the Beaugency, which was mild and of a good vintage. When the table was cleared, I sat still for about half an hour or so, playing with my glass, and then rising, saw that my door was securely fastened in such a manner that no one could effect an entrance, except by bursting the lock. This being done I removed my boots and unslung my sword, keeping my pistols, however, in my belt, and after a good look round, to see that no one was observing me, managed to loop the ladder round the gargoyle, and then tested it once more with a long pull. The silk held well enough, but the stonework of the gargoyle gave and fell with a heavy crash into the fosse below. It was a narrow business, and it was well I had tried the strength of the cord again. I looked out from the window cautiously to see if the noise had attracted any attention, and found to my satisfaction that it had not. After allowing a little time to elapse, so as to be on the safe side, I attempted to throw the looped end I had made to the ladder so that it might fall over the parapet, between two embrasures, but discovered, after half a dozen casts, that this was not feasible from where I stood. Then I bethought me of my boyhood's training amongst the cliffs that overhung the bay of Auriac, and, stepping out on to the ledge of the window, managed with an effort to hold on to the stump of the gargoyle with one hand, and, balancing myself carefully, for a slip meant instant death, flung the loop once more, and had the satisfaction of seeing it fall as I desired. Without any further hesitation I put my foot on the rungs, and in a minute more was lying on my face behind the parapet, and thanking God I had made the effort, for before me was a large skylight, half open, from which I could command a view of the interior of one room at least of the Toison d'Or, and by which it might be possible to effect an easy entrance. Before going any further, however, I glanced round me to see how the land lay, and was delighted to find that I could not be observed from the opposite side of the street, as the portion of the house I was on was concealed from view by the gabled roof that rose about ten feet from me, leaving me in a sort of long balcony. Now that I think of it, this roof must have been an after-thought on the part of the builders; then I was but too thankful to find it existed, and had no time for reflections. By turning my head I could see, too, that the high wall that shut in the mouth of the passage was evidently raised as a barrier between the street and the fosse, which took a bend and ran immediately below the wall. After lying perfectly still for a little, I slowly pushed myself forwards until at last I was beneath the skylight, and then, raising myself cautiously, peeped in. I saw a room of moderate size, and well but plainly furnished. In the centre was an oblong table covered with a dark cloth, and round about it were set a number of chairs. The skylight alone admitted light, and from this to the floor of the room was a matter of twelve feet or so. The chamber was empty, and I had more than half a mind to risk the descent, when the door was opened and Babette stepped in. I shrank back as low as possible, and observed that she was making arrangements for some one, for she placed a couple of decanters with glasses on the table, arranged the chairs, and then, after taking a look round, went out once more. I made up my mind to wait, and, settling myself under the skylight, began to exercise my patience. After an hour or so had passed I heard the door opened again, and then the sound of voices. Presently some one called out, 'We had better shut the skylight,' and then another voice, this time Lafin's, said, 'No, it is no use, and we will want light to see.'