Uncle Bernac A Memory of the Empire / Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

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Title: Uncle Bernac
       A Memory of the Empire

Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

Release Date: January 2, 2004 [EBook #10581]
[Date last updated: January 6, 2006]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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Produced by Lionel G. Sear




UNCLE BERNAC


A MEMORY OF THE EMPIRE



CONTENTS

Chapter
I.     THE COAST OF FRANCE

II.    THE SALT-MARSH

III.   THE RUINED COTTAGE

IV.    MEN OF THE NIGHT

V.     THE LAW

VI.    THE SECRET PASSAGE

VII.   THE OWNER OF GROSBOIS

VIII.  COUSIN SYBYLLE

IX.    THE CAMP OF BOULOGNE

X.     THE ANTE-ROOM

XI.    THE SECRETARY

XII.   THE MAN OF ACTION

XIII.  THE MAN OF DREAMS

XIV.   JOSEPHINE

XV.    THE RECEPTION OF THE EMPRESS

XVI.   THE LIBRARY OF GROSBOIS

XVII.  THE END





CHAPTER I


THE COAST OF FRANCE

I dare say that I had already read my uncle's letter a hundred times,
and I am sure that I knew it by heart.  None the less I took it out of
my pocket, and, sitting on the side of the lugger, I went over it again
with as much attention as if it were for the first time.  It was written
in a prim, angular hand, such as one might expect from a man who had
begun life as a village attorney, and it was addressed to Louis de
Laval, to the care of William Hargreaves, of the Green Man in Ashford,
Kent.  The landlord had many a hogshead of untaxed French brandy from
the Normandy coast, and the letter had found its way by the same hands.

'My dear nephew Louis,' said the letter, 'now that your father is dead,
and that you are alone in the world, I am sure that you will not wish to
carry on the feud which has existed between the two halves of the
family.  At the time of the troubles your father was drawn towards the
side of the King, and I towards that of the people, and it ended, as you
know, by his having to fly from the country, and by my becoming the
possessor of the estates of Grosbois.  No doubt it is very hard that you
should find yourself in a different position to your ancestors, but I am
sure that you would rather that the land should be held by a Bernac than
by a stranger.  From the brother of your mother you will at least always
meet with sympathy and consideration.

'And now I have some advice for you.  You know that I have always been
a Republican, but it has become evident to me that there is no use in
fighting against fate, and that Napoleon's power is far too great to be
shaken.  This being so, I have tried to serve him, for it is well to
howl when you are among wolves.  I have been able to do so much for
him that he has become my very good friend, so that I may ask him what
I like in return.  He is now, as you are probably aware, with the army
at Boulogne, within a few miles of Grosbois.  If you will come over at
once he will certainly forget the hostility of your father in
consideration of the services of your uncle.  It is true that your name
is still proscribed, but my influence with the Emperor will set that
matter right.  Come to me, then, come at once, and come with confidence.
                                      'Your uncle,
                                          'C. BERNAC.'

So much for the letter, but it was the outside which had puzzled me
most.  A seal of red wax had been affixed at either end, and my uncle
had apparently used his thumb as a signet.  One could see the little
rippling edges of a coarse skin imprinted upon the wax.  And then above
one of the seals there was written in English the two words, 'Don't
come.'  It was hastily scrawled, and whether by a man or a woman it was
impossible to say; but there it stared me in the face, that sinister
addition to an invitation.

'Don't come!'  Had it been added by this unknown uncle of mine on
account of some sudden change in his plans? Surely that was
inconceivable, for why in that case should he send the invitation at
all?  Or was it placed there by some one else who wished to warn me from
accepting this offer of hospitality?  The letter was in French.  The
warning was in English.  Could it have been added in England?  But the
seals were unbroken, and how could any one in England know what were the
contents of the letter?

And then, as I sat there with the big sail humming like a shell above my
head and the green water hissing beside me, I thought over all that I
had heard of this uncle of mine.  My father, the descendant of one of
the proudest and oldest families in France, had chosen beauty and virtue
rather than rank in his wife.  Never for an hour had she given him cause
to regret it; but this lawyer brother of hers had, as I understood,
offended my father by his slavish obsequiousness in days of prosperity
and his venomous enmity in the days of trouble.  He had hounded on the
peasants until my family had been compelled to fly from the country, and
had afterwards aided Robespierre in his worst excesses, receiving as a
reward the castle and estate of Grosbois, which was our own.  At the
fall of Robespierre he had succeeded in conciliating Barras, and through
every successive change he still managed to gain a fresh tenure of the
property.  Now it appeared from his letter that the new Emperor of
France had also taken his part, though why he should befriend a man with
such a history, and what service my Republican uncle could possibly
render to him, were matters upon which I could form no opinion.

And now you will ask me, no doubt, why I should accept the invitation
of such a man--a man whom my father had always stigmatised as a usurper
and a traitor.  It is easier to speak of it now than then, but the fact
was that we of the new generation felt it very irksome and difficult to
carry on the bitter quarrels of the last.  To the older _emigres_ the
clock of time seemed to have stopped in the year 1792, and they remained
for ever with the loves and the hatreds of that era fixed indelibly upon
their souls.  They had been burned into them by the fiery furnace
through which they had passed.  But we, who had grown up upon a strange
soil, understood that the world had moved, and that new issues had
arisen.  We were inclined to forget these feuds of the last generation.
France to us was no longer the murderous land of the _sans-culotte_ and
the guillotine basket; it was rather the glorious queen of war, attacked
by all and conquering all, but still so hard pressed that her scattered
sons could hear her call to arms for ever sounding in their ears.  It
was that call more than my uncle's letter which was taking me over the
waters of the Channel.

For long my heart had been with my country in her struggle, and yet
while my father lived I had never dared to say so; for to him, who had
served under Conde and fought at Quiberon, it would have seemed the
blackest treason.  But after his death there was no reason why I should
not return to the land of my birth, and my desire was the stronger
because Eugenie--the same Eugenie who has been thirty years my wife--was
of the same way of thinking as myself.  Her parents were a branch of the
de Choiseuls, and their prejudices were even stronger than those of my
father.  Little did they think what was passing in the minds of their
children.  Many a time when they were mourning a French victory in the
parlour we were both capering with joy in the garden.  There was a
little window, all choked round with laurel bushes, in the corner of the
bare brick house, and there we used to meet at night, the dearer to each
other from our difference with all who surrounded us.  I would tell her
my ambitions; she would strengthen them by her enthusiasm.  And so all
was ready when the time came.

But there was another reason besides the death of my father and the
receipt of this letter from my uncle.  Ashford was becoming too hot to
hold me.  I will say this for the English, that they were very generous
hosts to the French emigrants.  There was not one of us who did not
carry away a kindly remembrance of the land and its people.  But in
every country there are overbearing, swaggering folk, and even in quiet,
sleepy Ashford we were plagued by them.  There was one young Kentish
squire, Farley was his name, who had earned a reputation in the town as
a bully and a roisterer.  He could not meet one of us without uttering
insults not merely against the present French Government, which might
have been excusable in an English patriot, but against France itself and
all Frenchmen.  Often we were forced to be deaf in his presence, but at
last his conduct became so intolerable that I determined to teach him a
lesson.  There were several of us in the coffee-room at the Green Man
one evening, and he, full of wine and malice, was heaping insults upon
the French, his eyes creeping round to me every moment to see how I was
taking it.  'Now, Monsieur de Laval,' he cried, putting his rude hand
upon my shoulder, 'here is a toast for you to drink.  This is to the
arm of Nelson which strikes down the French.'  He stood leering at me to
see if I would drink it.  'Well, sir,' said I, 'I will drink your toast
if you will drink mine in return.' 'Come on, then!' said he.  So we
drank.  'Now, monsieur, let us have your toast,' said he.  'Fill your
glass, then,' said I.  'It is full now.' 'Well, then, here's to the
cannon-ball which carried off that arm!'  In an instant I had a glass of
port wine running down my face, and within an hour a meeting had been
arranged.  I shot him through the shoulder, and that night, when I came
to the little window, Eugenie plucked off some of the laurel leaves and
stuck them in my hair.

There were no legal proceedings about the duel, but it made my position
a little difficult in the town, and it will explain, with other things,
why I had no hesitation in accepting my unknown uncle's invitation, in
spite of the singular addition which I found upon the cover.  If he had
indeed sufficient influence with the Emperor to remove the proscription
which was attached to our name, then the only barrier which shut me off
from my country would be demolished.

You must picture me all this time as sitting upon the side of the lugger
and turning my prospects and my position over in my head.  My reverie
was interrupted by the heavy hand of the English skipper dropping
abruptly upon my arm.

'Now then, master,' said he, it's time you were stepping into the
dingey.'

I do not inherit the politics of the aristocrats, but I have never lost
their sense of personal dignity.  I gently pushed away his polluting
hand, and I remarked that we were still a long way from the shore.

'Well, you can do as you please,' said he roughly; 'I'm going no nearer,
so you can take your choice of getting into the dingey or of swimming
for it.'

It was in vain that I pleaded that he had been paid his price.  I did
not add that that price meant that the watch which had belonged to three
generations of de Lavals was now lying in the shop of a Dover goldsmith.

'Little enough, too!' he cried harshly.  'Down sail, Jim, and bring her
to!  Now, master, you can step over the side, or you can come back to
Dover, but I don't take the Vixen a cable's length nearer to Ambleteuse
Beef with this gale coming up from the sou'-west.'

'In that case I shall go,' said I.

'You can lay your life on that!' he answered, and laughed in so
irritating a fashion that I half turned upon him with the intention of
chastising him.  One is very helpless with these fellows, however, for a
serious affair is of course out of the question, while if one uses a
cane upon them they have a vile habit of striking with their hands,
which gives them an advantage.  The Marquis de Chamfort told me that,
when he first settled in Sutton at the time of the emigration, he lost a
tooth when reproving an unruly peasant.  I made the best of a necessity,
therefore, and, shrugging my shoulders, I passed over the side of the
lugger into the little boat.  My bundle was dropped in after me--conceive
to yourself the heir of all the de Lavals travelling with a
single bundle for his baggage!--and two seamen pushed her off, pulling
with long slow strokes towards the low-lying shore.

There was certainly every promise of a wild night, for the dark cloud
which had rolled up over the setting sun was now frayed and ragged at
the edges, extending a good third of the way across the heavens.  It had
split low down near the horizon, and the crimson glare of the sunset
beat through the gap, so that there was the appearance of fire with a
monstrous reek of smoke.  A red dancing belt of light lay across the
broad slate-coloured ocean, and in the centre of it the little black
craft was wallowing and tumbling.  The two seamen kept looking up at the
heavens, and then over their shoulders at the land, and I feared every
moment that they would put back before the gale burst.  I was filled
with apprehension every time when the end of their pull turned their
faces skyward, and it was to draw their attention away from the
storm-drift that I asked them what the lights were which had begun to
twinkle through the dusk both to the right and to the left of us.

'That's Boulogne to the north, and Etaples upon the south,' said one of
the seamen civilly.

Boulogne!  Etaples!  How the words came back to me!  It was to Boulogne
that in my boyhood we had gone down for the summer bathing.  Could I not
remember as a little lad trotting along by my father's side as he paced
the beach, and wondering why every fisherman's cap flew off at our
approach?  And as to Etaples, it was thence that we had fled for
England, when the folks came raving to the pier-head as we passed, and I
joined my thin voice to my father's as he shrieked back at them, for a
stone had broken my mother's knee, and we were all frenzied with our
fear and our hatred.  And here they were, these places of my childhood,
twinkling to the north and south of me, while there, in the darkness
between them, and only ten miles off at the furthest, lay my own castle,
my own land of Grosbois, where the men of my blood had lived and died
long before some of us had gone across with Duke William to conquer the
proud island over the water.  How I strained my eager eyes through the
darkness as I thought that the distant black keep of our fortalice might
even now be visible!

'Yes, sir,' said the seaman, ''tis a fine stretch of lonesome coast, and
many is the cock of your hackle that I have helped ashore there.'

'What do you take me for, then?' I asked.

'Well, 'tis no business of mine, sir,' he answered.  'There are some
trades that had best not even be spoken about.'

'You think that I am a conspirator?'

'Well, master, since you have put a name to it.  Lor' love you, sir,
we're used to it.'

'I give you my word that I am none.'

'An escaped prisoner, then?'

'No, nor that either.'

The man leaned upon his oar, and I could see in the gloom that his face
was thrust forward, and that it was wrinkled with suspicion.

'If you're one of Boney's spies--' he cried.

'I! A spy!' The tone of my voice was enough to convince him.

'Well,' said he,' I'm darned if I know what you are.  But if you'd been
a spy I'd ha' had no hand in landing you, whatever the skipper might
say.'

'Mind you, I've no word to say against Boney,' said the other seaman,
speaking in a very thick rumbling voice.  'He's been a rare good friend
to the poor mariner.'

It surprised me to hear him speak so, for the virulence of feeling
against the new French Emperor in England exceeded all belief, and high
and low were united in their hatred of him; but the sailor soon gave me
a clue to his politics.

'If the poor mariner can run in his little bit of coffee and sugar, and
run out his silk and his brandy, he has Boney to thank for it,' said he.
'The merchants have had their spell, and now it's the turn of the poor
mariner.'

I remembered then that Buonaparte was personally very popular amongst
the smugglers, as well he might be, seeing that he had made over into
their hands all the trade of the Channel.  The seaman continued to pull
with his left hand, but he pointed with his right over the
slate-coloured dancing waters.

'There's Boney himself,' said he.

You who live in a quieter age cannot conceive the thrill which these
simple words sent through me.  It was but ten years since we had first
heard of this man with the curious Italian name--think  of it, ten
years, the time that it takes for a private to become a non-commissioned
officer, or a clerk to win a fifty-pound advance in his salary.  He had
sprung in an instant out of nothing into everything.  One month people
were asking who he was, the next he had broken out in the north of Italy
like the plague; Venice and Genoa withered at the touch of this swarthy
ill-nourished boy.  He cowed the soldiers in the field, and he outwitted
the statesmen in the council chamber.  With a frenzy of energy he rushed
to the east, and then, while men were still marvelling at the way in
which he had converted Egypt into a French department, he was back again
in Italy and had beaten Austria for the second time to the earth.  He
travelled as quickly as the rumour of his coming; and where he came
there were new victories, new combinations, the crackling of old systems
and the blurring of ancient lines of frontier.  Holland, Savoy,
Switzerland--they were become mere names upon the map.  France was
eating into Europe in every direction.  They had made him Emperor, this
beardless artillery officer, and without an effort he had crushed down
those Republicans before whom the oldest king and the proudest nobility
of Europe had been helpless.  So it came about that we, who watched him
dart from place to place like the shuttle of destiny, and who heard his
name always in connection with some new achievement and some new
success, had come at last to look upon him as something more than human,
something monstrous, overshadowing France and menacing Europe.  His
giant presence loomed over the continent, and so deep was the impression
which his fame had made in my mind that, when the English sailor pointed
confidently over the darkening waters, and cried 'There's Boney!' I
looked up for the instant with a foolish expectation of seeing some
gigantic figure, some elemental creature, dark, inchoate, and
threatening, brooding over the waters of the Channel.  Even now, after
the long gap of years and the knowledge of his downfall, that great man
casts his spell upon you, but all that you read and all that you hear
cannot give you an idea of what his name meant in the days when he was
at the summit of his career.

What actually met my eye was very different from this childish
expectation of mine.  To the north there was a long low cape, the name
of which has now escaped me.  In the evening light it had been of the
same greyish green tint as the other headlands; but now, as the darkness
fell, it gradually  broke into a dull glow, like a cooling iron.
On that wild night, seen and lost with the heave and sweep of the boat,
this lurid streak carried with it a vague but sinister suggestion.
The red line splitting the darkness might have been a giant half-forged
sword-blade with its point towards England.

'What is it, then?' I asked.

'Just what I say, master,' said he.  'It's one of Boney's armies, with
Boney himself in the middle of it as like as not.  Them is their camp
fires, and you'll see a dozen such between this and Ostend.
He's audacious enough to come across, is little Boney, if he could dowse
Lord Nelson's other eye; but there's no chance for him until then, and
well he knows it.'

'How can Lord Nelson know what he is doing?' I asked.

The man pointed out over my shoulder into the darkness, and far on the
horizon I perceived three little twinkling lights.

'Watch dog,' said he, in his husky voice.

'Andromeda.  Forty-four,' added his companion.

I have often thought of them since, the long glow upon the land, and the
three little lights upon the sea, standing for so much, for the two
great rivals face to face, for the power of the land and the power of
the water, for the centuries-old battle, which may last for centuries to
come.  And yet, Frenchman as I am, do I not know that the struggle is
already decided?--for it lies between the childless nation and that
which has a lusty young brood springing up around her.  If France falls
she dies, but if England falls how many nations are there who will carry
her speech, her traditions and her blood on into the history of the
future?

The land had been looming darker, and the thudding of waves upon the
sand sounded louder every instant upon my ears.  I could already see the
quick dancing gleam of the surf in front of me.  Suddenly, as I peered
through the deepening shadow, a long dark boat shot out from it, like a
trout from under a stone, making straight in our direction.

'A guard boat!' cried one of the seamen.

'Bill, boy, we're done!' said the other, and began to stuff something
into his sea boot.

But the boat swerved at the sight of us, like a shying horse, and was
off in another direction as fast as eight frantic oars could drive her.
The seamen stared after her and wiped their brows.  'Her conscience
don't seem much easier than our own,' said one of them.  'I made sure it
was the preventives.'

'Looks to me as if you weren't the only queer cargo on the coast
to-night, mister,' remarked his comrade.  'What could she be?'

'Cursed if I know what she was.  I rammed a cake of good Trinidad
tobacco into my boot when I saw her.  I've seen the inside of a French
prison before now.  Give way, Bill, and have it over.'

A minute later, with a low grating sound, we ran aground upon a gravelly
leach.  My bundle was thrown ashore, I stepped after it, and a seaman
pushed the prow off again, springing in as his comrade backed her into
deep water.  Already the glow in the west had vanished, the storm-cloud
was half up the heavens, and a thick blackness had gathered over the
ocean.  As I turned to watch the vanishing boat a keen wet blast flapped
in my face, and the air was filled with the high piping of the wind and
with the deep thunder of the sea.

And thus it was that, on a wild evening in the early spring of the year
1805, I, Louis de Laval, being in the twenty-first year of my age,
returned, after an exile of thirteen years, to the country of which my
family had for many centuries been the ornament and support.  She had
treated us badly, this country; she had repaid our services by insult,
exile, and confiscation.  But all that was forgotten as I, the only de
Laval of the new generation, dropped upon my knees upon her sacred soil,
and, with the strong smell of the seaweed in my nostrils, pressed my
lips upon the wet and pringling gravel.



CHAPTER II


THE SALT-MARSH

When a man has reached his mature age he can rest at that point of
vantage, and cast his eyes back at the long road along which he has
travelled, lying with its gleams of sunshine and its stretches of shadow
in the valley behind him.  He knows then its whence and its whither, and
the twists and bends which were so full of promise or of menace as he
approached them lie exposed and open to his gaze.  So plain is it all
that he can scarce remember how dark it may have seemed to him, or how
long he once hesitated at the cross roads.  Thus when he tries to recall
each stage of the journey he does so with the knowledge of its end, and
can no longer make it clear, even to himself, how it may have seemed to
him at the time.  And yet, in spite of the strain of years, and the many
passages which have befallen me since, there is no time of my life which
comes back so very clearly as that gusty evening, and to this day I
cannot feel the briny wholesome whiff of the seaweed without being
carried back, with that intimate feeling of reality which only the sense
of smell can confer, to the wet shingle of the French beach.

When I had risen from my knees, the first thing that I did was to put my
purse into the inner pocket of my coat.  I had taken it out in order to
give a gold piece to the sailor who had handed me ashore, though I have
little doubt that the fellow was both wealthier and of more assured
prospects than myself.  I had actually drawn out a silver half-crown,
but I could not bring myself to offer it to him, and so ended by giving
a tenth part of my whole fortune to a stranger.  The other nine
sovereigns I put very carefully away, and then, sitting down upon a flat
rock just above high water mark, I turned it all over in my mind and
weighed what I should do.  Already I was cold and hungry, with the wind
lashing my face and the spray smarting in my eyes, but at least I was no
longer living upon the charity of the enemies of my country, and the
thought set my heart dancing within me.  But the castle, as well as I
could remember, was a good ten miles off.  To go there now was to arrive
at an unseemly hour, unkempt and weather-stained, before this uncle whom
I had never seen.  My sensitive pride conjured up a picture of the
scornful faces of his servants as they looked out upon this bedraggled
wanderer from England slinking back to the castle which should have been
his own.  No, I must seek shelter for the night, and then at my leisure,
with as fair a show of appearances as possible, I must present myself
before my relative.  Where then could I find a refuge from the storm?

You will ask me, doubtless, why I did not make for Etaples or Boulogne.
I answer that it was for the same reason which forced me to land
secretly upon that forbidding coast.  The name of de Laval still headed
the list of the proscribed, for my father had been a famous and
energetic leader of the small but influential body of men who had
remained true at all costs to the old order of things.  Do not think
that, because I was of another way of thinking, I despised those who had
given up so much for their principles.  There is a curious saint-like
trait in our natures which draws us most strongly towards that which
involves the greatest sacrifice, and I have sometimes thought that if
the conditions had been less onerous the Bourbons might have had fewer,
or at least less noble, followers.  The French nobles had been more
faithful to them than the English to the Stuarts, for Cromwell had no
luxurious court or rich appointments which he could hold out to those
who would desert the royal cause.  No words can exaggerate the
self-abnegation of those men.  I have seen a supper party under my
father's roof where our guests were two fencing-masters, three
professors of language, one ornamental gardener, and one translator of
books, who held his hand in the front of his coat to conceal a rent in
the lapel.  But these eight men were of the highest nobility of France,
who might have had what they chose to ask if they would only consent to
forget the past, and to throw themselves heartily into the new order of
things.  But the humble, and what is sadder the incapable, monarch of
Hartwell still held the allegiance of those old Montmorencies, Rohans,
and Choiseuls, who, having shared the greatness of his family, were
determined also to stand by it in its ruin.  The dark chambers of that
exiled monarch were furnished with something better than the tapestry of
Gobelins or the china of Sevres.  Across the gulf which separates my old
age from theirs I can still see those ill-clad, grave-mannered men, and
I raise my hat to the noblest group of nobles that our history can show.

To visit a coast-town, therefore, before I had seen my uncle, or learnt
whether my return had been sanctioned, would be simply to deliver myself
into the hands of the _gens d'armes_, who were ever on the look-out for
strangers from England.  To go before the new Emperor was one thing and
to be dragged before him another.  On the whole, it seemed to me that my
best course was to wander inland, in the hope of finding some empty barn
or out-house, where I could pass the night unseen and undisturbed.  Then
in the morning I should consider how it was best for me to approach my
uncle Bernac, and through him the new master of France.

The wind had freshened meanwhile into a gale, and it was so dark upon
the seaward side that I could only catch the white flash of a leaping
wave here and there in the blackness.  Of the lugger which had brought
me from Dover I could see no sign.  On the land side of me there seemed,
as far as I could make it out, to be a line of low hills, but when I
came to traverse them I found that the dim light had exaggerated their
size, and that they were mere scattered sand-dunes, mottled with patches
of bramble.  Over these I toiled with my bundle slung over my shoulder,
plodding heavily through the loose sand, and tripping over the creepers,
but forgetting my wet clothes and my numb hands as I recalled the many
hardships and adventures which my ancestors had undergone.  It amused me
to think that the day might come when my own descendants might fortify
themselves by the recollection of that which was happening to me, for in
a great family like ours the individual is always subordinate to the
race.

It seemed to me that I should never get to the end of the sand-dunes,
but when at last I did come off them I heartily wished that I was back
upon them again; for the sea in that part comes by some creek up the
back of the beach, forming at low tide a great desolate salt-marsh,
which must be a forlorn place even in the daytime, but upon such a night
as that it was a most dreary wilderness.  At first it was but a softness
of the ground, causing me to slip as I walked, but soon the mud was over
my ankles and half-way up to my knees, so that each foot gave a loud
flop as I raised it, and a dull splash as I set it down again.  I would
willingly have made my way out, even if I had to return to the
sand-dunes, but in trying to pick my path I had lost all my bearings,
and the air was so full of the sounds of the storm that the sea seemed
to be on every side of me.  I had heard of how one may steer oneself by
observation of the stars, but my quiet English life had not taught me
how such things were done, and had I known I could scarcely have
profited by it, since the few stars which were visible peeped out here
and there in the rifts of the flying storm-clouds.  I wandered on then,
wet and weary, trusting to fortune, but always blundering deeper and
deeper into this horrible bog, until I began to think that my first
night in France was destined also to be my last, and that the heir of
the de Lavals was destined to perish of cold and misery in the depths of
this obscene morass.

I must have toiled for many miles in this dreary fashion, sometimes
coming upon shallower mud and sometimes upon deeper, but never making my
way on to the dry, when I perceived through the gloom something which
turned my heart even heavier than it had been before.  This was a
curious clump of some whitish shrub--cotton-grass of a flowering
variety--which glimmered suddenly before me in the darkness.  Now, an
hour earlier I had passed just such a square-headed, whitish clump; so
that I was confirmed in the opinion which I had already begun to form,
that I was wandering in a circle.  To make it certain I stooped down,
striking a momentary flash from my tinder-box, and there sure enough was
my own old track very clearly marked in the brown mud in front of me.
At this confirmation of my worst fears I threw my eyes up to heaven in
my despair, and there I saw something which for the first time gave me a
clue in the uncertainty which surrounded me.

It was nothing else than a glimpse of the moon between two flowing
clouds.  This in itself might have been of small avail to me, but over
its white face was marked a long thin V, which shot swiftly across like
a shaftless arrow.  It was a flock of wild ducks, and its flight was in
the same direction as that towards which my face was turned.  Now, I had
observed in Kent how all these creatures come further inland when there
is rough weather breaking, so I made no doubt that their course
indicated the path which would lead me away from the sea.  I struggled
on, therefore, taking every precaution to walk in a straight line, above
all being very careful to make a stride of equal length with either leg,
until at last, after half an hour or so, my perseverance was rewarded by
the welcome sight of a little yellow light, as from a cottage window,
glimmering through the darkness.  Ah, how it shone through my eyes and
down into my heart, glowing and twinkling there, that little golden
speck, which meant food, and rest, and life itself to the wanderer!
I blundered towards it through the mud and the slush as fast as my weary
legs would bear me.  I was too cold and miserable to refuse any shelter,
and I had no doubt that for the sake of one of my gold pieces the
fisherman or peasant who lived in this strange situation would shut his
eyes to whatever might be suspicious in my presence or appearance.

As I approached it became more and more wonderful to me that any one
should live there at all, for the bog grew worse rather than better, and
in the occasional gleams of moonshine I could make out that the water
lay in glimmering pools all round the low dark cottage from which the
light was breaking.  I could see now that it shone through a small
square window.  As I approached the gleam was suddenly obscured, and
there in a yellow frame appeared the round black outline of a man's head
peering out into the darkness.  A second time it appeared before I
reached the cottage, and there was something in the stealthy manner in
which it peeped and whisked away, and peeped once more, which filled me
with surprise, and with a certain vague apprehension.

So cautious were the movements of this sentinel, and so singular the
position of his watch-house, that I determined, in spite of my misery,
to see something more of him before I trusted myself to the shelter of
his roof.  And, indeed, the amount of shelter which I might hope for was
not very great, for as I drew softly nearer I could see that the light
from within was beating through at several points, and that the whole
cottage was in the most crazy state of disrepair.  For a moment I
paused, thinking that even the salt-marsh might perhaps be a safer
resting-place for the night than the headquarters of some desperate
smuggler, for such I conjectured that this lonely dwelling must be.
The scud, however, had covered the moon once more, and the darkness was
so pitchy black that I felt that I might reconnoitre a little more
closely without fear of discovery.  Walking on tiptoe I approached the
little window and looked in.

What I saw reassured me vastly.  A small wood fire was crackling in one
of those old-fashioned country grates, and beside it was seated a
strikingly handsome young man, who was reading earnestly out of a fat
little book.  He had an oval, olive-tinted face, with long black hair,
ungathered in a queue, and there was something of the poet or of the
artist in his whole appearance.  The sight of that refined face, and of
the warm yellow firelight which beat upon it, was a very cheering one to
a cold and famished traveller.  I stood for an instant gazing at him,
and noticing the way in which his full and somewhat loose-fitting lower
lip quivered continually, as if he were repeating to himself that which
he was reading.  I was still looking at him when he put his book down
upon the table and approached the window.  Catching a glimpse of my
figure in the darkness he called out something which I could not hear,
and waved his hand in a gesture of welcome.  An instant later the door
flew open, and there was his thin tall figure standing upon the
threshold, with his skirts flapping in the wind.

'My dear friends,' he cried, peering out into the gloom with his hand
over his eyes to screen them from the salt-laden wind and driving sand,
'I had given you up.  I thought that you were never coming.  I've been
waiting for two hours.'

For answer I stepped out in front of him, so that the light fell upon my
face.

'I am afraid, sir--' said I.

But I had no time to finish my sentence.  He struck at me with both
hands like an angry cat, and, springing back into the room, he slammed
the door with a crash in my face.

The swiftness of his movements and the malignity of his gesture were in
such singular contrast with his appearance that I was struck speechless
with surprise.  But as I stood there with the door in front of me I was
a witness to something which filled me with even greater astonishment.

I have already said that the cottage was in the last stage of disrepair.
Amidst the many seams and cracks through which the light was breaking
there was one along the whole of the hinge side of the door, which gave
me from where I was standing a view of the further end of the room, at
which the fire was burning.  As I gazed then I saw this man reappear in
front of the fire, fumbling furiously with both his hands in his bosom,
and then with a spring he disappeared up the chimney, so that I could
only see his shoes and half of his black calves as he stood upon the
brickwork at the side of the grate.  In an instant he was down again and
back at the door.

'Who are you?' he cried, in a voice which seemed to me to be thrilling
with some strong emotion.

'I am a traveller, and have lost my way.'  There was a pause as if he
were thinking what  course he should pursue.

'You will find little here to tempt you to stay,' said he at last.

'I am weary and spent, sir; and surely you will not refuse me shelter.
I have been wandering for hours in the salt-marsh.'

'Did you meet anyone there?' he asked eagerly.

'No.'

'Stand back a little from the door.  This is a wild place, and the times
are troublous.  A man must take some precautions.'

I took a few steps back, and he then opened the door sufficiently to
allow his head to come through.  He said nothing, but he looked at me
for a long time in a very searching manner.

'What is your name?'

'Louis Laval,' said I, thinking that it might sound less dangerous in
this plebeian form.

'Whither are you going?'

'I wish to reach some shelter.'

'You are from England?'

'I am from the coast.'

He shook his head slowly to show me how little my replies had satisfied
him.

'You cannot come in here,' said he.

'But surely--'

'No, no, it is impossible.'

'Show me then how to find my way out of the marsh.'

'It is easy enough.  If you go a few hundred paces in that direction you
will perceive the lights of a village.  You are already almost free of
the marsh.'

He stepped a pace or two from the door in order to point the way for me,
and then turned upon his heel.  I had already taken a stride or two away
from him and his inhospitable hut, when he suddenly called after me.

'Come, Monsieur Laval,' said he, with quite a different ring in his
voice; 'I really cannot permit you to leave me upon so tempestuous a
night.  A warm by my fire and a glass of brandy will hearten you upon
your way.'

You may think that I did not feel disposed to contradict him, though I
could make nothing of this sudden and welcome change in his manner.

'I am much obliged to you, sir,' said I.

And I followed him into the hut.



CHAPTER III


THE RUINED COTTAGE

It was delightful to see the glow and twinkle of the fire and to escape
from the wet wind and the numbing cold, but my curiosity had already
risen so high about this lonely man and his singular dwelling that my
thoughts ran rather upon that than upon my personal comfort.  There was
his remarkable appearance, the fact that he should be awaiting company
within that miserable ruin in the heart of the morass at so sinister an
hour, and finally the inexplicable incident of the chimney, all of which
excited my imagination.  It was beyond my comprehension why he should at
one moment charge me sternly to continue my journey, and then, in almost
the same breath, invite me most cordially to seek the shelter of his
hut.  On all these points I was keenly on the alert for an explanation.
Yet I endeavoured to conceal my feelings, and to assume the air of a man
who finds everything quite natural about him, and who is much too
absorbed in his own personal wants to have a thought to spare upon
anything outside himself.

A glance at the inside of the cottage, as I entered, confirmed me in the
conjecture which the appearance of the outside had already given rise
to, that it was not used for human residence, and that this man was only
here for a rendezvous.  Prolonged moisture had peeled the plaster in
flakes from the walls, and had covered the stones with blotches and
rosettes of lichen.  The whole place was rotten and scaling like a
leper.  The single large room was unfurnished save for a crazy table,
three wooden boxes, which might be used as seats, and a great pile of
decayed fishing-net in the corner.  The splinters of a fourth box, with
a hand-axe, which leaned against the wall, showed how the wood for the
fire had been gathered.  But it was to the table that my gaze was
chiefly drawn, for there, beside the lamp and the book, lay an open
basket, from which projected the knuckle-end of a ham, the corner of a
loaf of bread, and the black neck of a bottle.

If my host had been suspicious and cold at our first meeting he was now
atoning for his inhospitality by an overdone cordiality even harder for
me to explain.  With many lamentations over my mud-stained and sodden
condition, he drew a box close to the blaze and cut me off a corner of
the bread and ham.  I could not help observing, however, that though his
loose under-lipped mouth was wreathed with smiles, his beautiful dark
eyes were continually running over me and my attire, asking and
re-asking what my business might be.

'As for myself,' said he, with an air of false candour, 'you will very
well understand that in these days a worthy merchant must do the best he
can to get his wares, and if the Emperor, God save him, sees fit in his
wisdom to put an end to open trade, one must come to such places as
these to get into touch with those who bring across the coffee and the
tobacco.  I promise you that in the Tuileries itself there is no
difficulty about getting either one or the other, and the Emperor drinks
his ten cups a day of the real Mocha without asking questions, though he
must know that it is not grown within the confines of France.  The
vegetable kingdom still remains one of the few which Napoleon has not
yet conquered, and, if it were not for traders, who are at some risk and
inconvenience, it is hard to say what we should do for our supplies.
I suppose, sir, that you are not yourself either in the seafaring or in
the trading line?'

I contented myself by answering that I was not, by which reticence I
could see that I only excited his curiosity the more.  As to his account
of himself, I read a lie in those tell-tale eyes all the time that he
was talking.  As I looked at him now in the full light of the lamp and
the fire, I could see that he was even more good-looking than I had at
first thought, but with a type of beauty which has never been to my
taste.  His features were so refined as to be almost effeminate, and so
regular that they would have been perfect if it had not been for that
ill-fitting, slabbing mouth.  It was a clever, and yet it was a weak
face, full of a sort of fickle enthusiasm and feeble impulsiveness.
I felt that the more I knew him the less reason I should probably find
either to like him or to fear him, and in my first conclusion I was
right, although I had occasion to change my views upon the second.

'You will forgive me, Monsieur Laval, if I was a little cold at first,'
said he.  'Since the Emperor has been upon the coast the place swarms
with police agents, so that a trader must look to his own interests.
You will allow that my fears of you were not unnatural, since neither
your dress nor your appearance were such as one would expect to meet
with in such a place and at such a time.'

It was on my lips to return the remark, but I refrained.

'I can assure you,' said I, 'that I am merely a traveller who have lost
my way.  Now that I am refreshed and rested I will not encroach further
upon your hospitality, except to ask you to point out the way to the
nearest village.'

'Tut; you had best stay where you are, for the night grows wilder every
instant.'  As he spoke there came a whoop and scream of wind in the
chimney, as if the old place were coming down about our ears.  He walked
across to the window and looked very earnestly out of it, just as I had
seen him do upon my first approach.  'The fact is, Monsieur Laval,' said
he, looking round at me with his false-air of good fellowship, 'you may
be of some good service to me if you will wait here for half an hour or
so.'

'How so?' I asked, wavering between my distrust and my curiosity.

'Well, to be frank with you'--and never did a man look less frank as he
spoke--'I am waiting here for some of those people with whom I do
business;  but in some way they have not come yet, and I am inclined to
take a walk round the marsh on the chance of finding them, if they have
lost their way.  On the other hand, it would be exceedingly awkward for
me if they were to come here in my absence and imagine that I am gone.
I should take it as a favour, then, if you would remain here for half an
hour or so, that you may tell them how matters stand if I should chance
to miss them.'

The request seemed reasonable enough, and yet there was that same
oblique glance which told me that it was false.  Still, I could not see
what harm could come to me by complying with his request, and certainly
I could not have devised any arrangement which would give me such an
opportunity of satisfying my curiosity.  What was in that wide stone
chimney, and why had he clambered up there upon the sight of me?
My adventure would be inconclusive indeed if I did not settle that point
before I went on with my journey.

'Well,' said he, snatching up his black broad-brimmed hat and running
very briskly to the door, 'I am sure that you will not refuse me my
request, and I must delay no longer or I shall never get my business
finished.'  He closed the door hurriedly behind him, and I heard the
splashing of his foot-steps until they were lost in the howling of the
gale.

And so the mysterious cottage was mine to ransack if I could pluck its
secrets from it.  I lifted the book which had been left upon the table.
It was Rousseau's 'Social Contract'--excellent literature, but hardly
what one would expect a trader to carry with him whilst awaiting an
appointment with smugglers.  On the fly-leaf was written 'Lucien
Lesage,' and beneath it, in a woman's hand, 'Lucien, from Sibylle.'
Lesage, then, was the name of my good-looking but sinister acquaintance.
It only remained for me now to discover what it was which he had
concealed up the chimney.  I listened intently, and as there was no
sound from without save the cry of the storm, I stepped on to the edge
of the grate as I had seen him do, and sprang up by the side of the
fire.

It was a very broad, old-fashioned cottage chimney, so that standing on
one side I was not inconvenienced either by the heat or by the smoke,
and the bright glare from below showed me in an instant that for which I
sought.  There was a recess at the back, caused by the fall or removal
of one of the stones, and in this was lying a small bundle.  There could
not be the least doubt that it was this which the fellow had striven so
frantically to conceal upon the first alarm of the approach of a
stranger.  I took it down and held it to the light.  It was a small
square of yellow glazed cloth tied round with white tape.  Upon my
opening it a number of letters appeared, and a single large paper folded
up.  The addresses upon the letters took my breath away.  The first that
I glanced at was to Citizen Talleyrand.  The others were in the
Republican style addressed to Citizen Fouche, to Citizen Soult, to
Citizen MacDonald, to Citizen Berthier, and so on through the whole list
of famous names in war and in diplomacy who were the pillars of the new
Empire.  What in the world could this pretended merchant of coffee have
to write to all these great notables about?  The other paper would
explain, no doubt.  I laid the letters upon the shelf and I unfolded the
paper which had been enclosed with them.  It did not take more than the
opening sentence to convince me that the salt-marsh outside might prove
to be a very much safer place than this accursed cottage.

These were the words which met my eyes:--

'Fellow-citizens of France.  The deed of to-day has proved that, even in
the midst of his troops, a tyrant is unable to escape the vengeance of
an outraged people.  The committee of three, acting temporarily for the
Republic, has awarded to Buonaparte the same fate which has already
befallen Louis Capet.  In avenging the outrage of the 18th Brumaire--'

So far I had got when my heart sprang suddenly into my mouth and the
paper fluttered down from my fingers.  A grip of iron had closed
suddenly round each of my ankles, and there in the light of the fire I
saw two hands which, even in that terrified glance, I perceived to be
covered with black hair and of an enormous size.

'So, my friend,' cried a thundering voice, 'this time, at least, we have
been too many for you.'



CHAPTER IV


MEN OF THE NIGHT

I had little time given me to realise the extraordinary and humiliating
position in which I found myself, for I was lifted up by my ankles, as
if I were a fowl pulled off a perch, and jerked roughly down into the
room, my back striking upon the stone floor with a thud which shook the
breath from my body.

'Don't kill him yet, Toussac,' said a soft voice.  'Let us make sure who
he is first.'

I felt the pressure of a thumb upon my chin and of fingers upon my
throat, and my head was slowly forced round until the strain became
unbearable.

'Quarter of an inch does it and no mark,' said the thunderous voice.
'You can trust my old turn.'

'Don't, Toussac; don't!' said the same gentle voice which had spoken
first.  'I saw you do it once before, and the horrible snick that it
made haunted me for a long time.  To think that the sacred flame of life
can be so readily snuffed out by that great material finger and thumb!
Mind can indeed conquer matter, but the fighting must not be at close
quarters.'

My neck was so twisted that I could not see any of these people who were
discussing my fate.  I could only lie and listen.

'The fact remains, my dear Charles, that the fellow has our
all-important secret, and that it is our lives or his.

'I recognised in the voice which was now speaking that of the man of the
cottage.

'We owe it to ourselves to put it out of his power to harm us.  Let him
sit up, Toussac, for there is no possibility of his escaping.'

Some irresistible force at the back of my neck dragged me instantly into
a sitting position, and so for the first time I was able to look round
me in a dazed fashion, and to see these men into whose hands I had
fallen.  That they were murderers in the past and had murderous plans
for the future I already gathered from what I had heard and seen.
I understood also that in the heart of that lonely marsh I was
absolutely in their power.  None the less, I remembered the name that I
bore, and I concealed as far as I could the sickening terror which lay
at my heart.

There were three of them in the room, my former acquaintance and two new
comers.  Lesage stood by the table, with his fat brown book in his hand,
looking at me with a composed face, but with that humorous questioning
twinkle in his eyes which a master chess-player might assume when he had
left his opponent without a move.  On the top of the box beside him sat
a very ascetic-faced, yellow, hollow-eyed man of fifty, with prim lips
and a shrunken skin, which hung loosely over the long jerking tendons
under his prominent chin.  He was dressed in snuff-coloured clothes, and
his legs under his knee-breeches were of a ludicrous thinness.  He shook
his head at me with an air of sad wisdom, and I could read little
comfort in his inhuman grey eyes.  But it was the man called Toussac who
alarmed me most.  He was a colossus; bulky rather than tall, but
misshapen from his excess of muscle.  His huge legs were crooked like
those of a great ape; and, indeed, there was something animal about his
whole appearance, something for he was bearded up to his eyes, and it
was a paw rather than a hand which still clutched me by the collar.  As
to his expression, he was too thatched with hair to show one, but his
large black eyes looked with a sinister questioning from me to the
others.  If they were the judge and jury, it was clear who was to be
executioner.

'Whence did he come?  What is his business?  How came he to know the
hiding-place?'  asked the thin man.

'When he first came I mistook him for you in the darkness,' Lesage
answered.  'You will acknowledge that it was not a night on which one
would expect to meet many people in the salt-marsh.  On discovering my
mistake I shut the door and concealed the papers in the chimney.  I had
forgotten that he might see me do this through that crack by the hinges,
but when I went out again, to show him his way and so get rid of him, my
eye caught the gap, and I at once realised that he had seen my action,
and that it must have aroused his curiosity to such an extent that it
would be quite certain that he would think and speak of it.  I called
him back into the hut, therefore, in order that I might have time to
consider what I had best do with him.'

'Sapristi! a couple of cuts of that wood-axe, and a bed in the softest
corner of the marsh, would have settled the business at once,' said the
fellow by my side.

'Quite true, my good Toussac; but it is not usual to lead off with your
ace of trumps.  A little delicacy--a little finesse--'

'Let us hear what you did then?'

'It was my first object to learn whether this man Laval--'

'What did you say his name was?' cried the thin man.

'His name, according to his account, is Laval.  My first object then was
to find out whether he had in truth seen me conceal the papers or not.
It was an important question for us, and, as things have turned out,
more important still for him.  I made my little plan, therefore.
I waited until I saw you approach, and I then left him alone in the hut.
I watched through the window and saw him fly to the hiding-place.
We then entered, and I asked you, Toussac, to be good enough to lift him
down--and there he lies.'

The young fellow looked proudly round for the applause of his comrades,
and the thin man clapped his hands softly together, looking very hard at
me while he did so.

'My dear Lesage,' said he, 'you have certainly excelled yourself.
When our new republic looks for its minister of police we shall know
where to find him.  I confess that when, after guiding Toussac to this
shelter, I followed you in and perceived a gentleman's legs projecting
from the fireplace, even my wits, which are usually none of the slowest,
hardly grasped the situation.  Toussac, however, grasped the legs.
He is always practical, the good Toussac.'

'Enough words!' growled the hairy creature beside me.  'It is because we
have talked instead of acting that this Buonaparte has a crown upon his
head or a head upon his shoulders.  Let us have done with the fellow and
come to business.'

The refined features of Lesage made me look towards him as to a possible
protector, but his large dark eyes were as cold and hard as jet as he
looked back at me.

'What Toussac says is right,' said he.  'We imperil our own safety if he
goes with our secret.'

'The devil take our own safety!' cried Toussac.  'What has that to do
with the matter?  We imperil the success of our plans--that is of more
importance.'

'The two things go together,' replied Lesage.  'There is no doubt that
Rule 13 of our confederation defines exactly what should be done in
such a case.  Any responsibility must rest with the passers of Rule 13.'

My heart had turned cold when this man with his poet's face supported
the savage at my side.  But my hopes were raised again when the thin
man, who had said little hitherto, though he had continued to stare at
me very intently, began now to show some signs of alarm at the
bloodthirsty proposals of his comrades.

'My dear Lucien,' said he, in a soothing voice, laying his hand upon the
young man's arm, 'we philosophers and reasoners must have a respect for
human life.  The tabernacle is not to be lightly violated.  We have
frequently agreed that if it were not for the excesses of Marat--'

'I have every respect for your opinion, Charles,' the other interrupted.
'You will allow that I have always been a willing and obedient disciple.
But I again say that our personal safety is involved, and that, as far
as I see, there is no middle course.  No one could be more averse from
cruelty than I am, but you were present with me some months ago when
Toussac silenced the man from Bow Street, and certainly it was done with
such dexterity that the process was probably more painful to the
spectators than to the victim.  He could not have been aware of the
horrible sound which announced his own dissolution.  If you and I had
constancy enough to endure this--and if I remember right it was chiefly
at your instigation that the deed was done--then surely on this more
vital occasion--'

'No, no, Toussac, stop!' cried the thin man, his voice rising from its
soft tones to a perfect scream as the giant's hairy hand gripped me by
the chin once more.  'I appeal to you, Lucien, upon practical as well as
upon moral grounds, not to let this deed be done.  Consider that if
things should go against us this will cut us off from all hopes of
mercy.  Consider also--'

This argument seemed for a moment to stagger the younger man, whose
olive complexion had turned a shade greyer.

'There will be no hope for us in any case, Charles,' said he.  'We have
no choice but to obey Rule 13.'

'Some latitude is allowed to us.  We are ourselves upon the inner
committee.'

'But it takes a quorum to change a rule, and we have no powers to do
it.'  His pendulous lip was quivering, but there was no softening in his
eyes.  Slowly under the pressure of those cruel fingers my chin began to
sweep round to my shoulder, and I commended my soul to the Virgin and to
Saint Ignatius, who has always been the especial patron of my family.
But this man Charles, who had already befriended me, darted forwards and
began to tear at Toussac's hands with a vehemence which was very
different from his former philosophic calm.

'You _shall_ not kill him!' he cried angrily.

'Who are you, to set your wills up against mine?  Let him go, Toussac!
Take your thumb from his chin!  I won't have it done, I tell you!'
Then, as he saw by the inflexible faces of his companions that
blustering would not help him, he turned suddenly to tones of entreaty.
'See, now! I'll make you a promise!' said he.  'Listen to me, Lucien!
Let me examine him!  If he is a police spy he shall die!  You may have
him then, Toussac.  But if he is only a harmless traveller, who has
blundered in here by an evil chance, and who has been led by a foolish
curiosity to inquire into our business, then you will leave him to me.'

You will observe that from the beginning of this affair I had never once
opened my mouth, nor said a word in my defence, which made me mightily
pleased with myself afterwards, though my silence came rather from pride
than from courage.  To lose life and self-respect together was more than
I could face.  But now, at this appeal from my advocate, I turned my
eyes from the monster who held me to the other who condemned me.
The brutality of the one alarmed me less than the self-interested
attitude of the other, for a man is never so dangerous as when he is
afraid, and of all judges the judge who has cause to fear you is the
most inflexible.

My life depended upon the answer which was to come to the appeal of my
champion.  Lesage tapped his fingers upon his teeth, and smiled
indulgently at the earnestness of his companion.

'Rule 13!  Rule 13!' he kept repeating, in that exasperating voice of
his.

'I will take all responsibility.'

'I'll tell you what, mister,' said Toussac, in his savage voice.
'There's another rule besides Rule 13, and that's the one that says that
if any man shelters an offender he shall be treated as if he was himself
guilty of the offence.'

This attack did not shake the serenity of my champion in the least.

'You are an excellent man of action, Toussac,' said he calmly; 'but when
it comes to choosing the right course, you must leave it to wiser heads
than your own.'

His air of tranquil superiority seemed to daunt the fierce creature who
held me.  He shrugged his huge shoulders in silent dissent.

'As to you, Lucien,' my friend continued, 'I am surprised, considering
the position to which you aspire in my family, that you should for an
instant stand in the way of any wish which I may express.  If you have
grasped the true principles of liberty, and if you are privileged to be
one of the small band who have never despaired of the republic, to whom
is it that you owe it?'

'Yes, yes, Charles; I acknowledge what you say,' the young man answered,
with much agitation.  'I am sure that I should be the last to oppose any
wish which you might express, but in this case I fear lest your
tenderness of heart may be leading you astray.  By all means ask him any
questions that you like; but it seems to me that there can be only one
end to the matter.'

So I thought also; for, with the full secret of these desperate men in
my possession, what hope was there that they would ever suffer me to
leave the hut alive?  And yet, so sweet is human life, and so dear a
respite, be it ever so short a one, that when that murderous hand was
taken from my chin I heard a sudden chiming of little bells, and the
lamp blazed up into a strange fantastic blur.  It was but for a moment,
and then my mind was clear again, and I was looking up at the strange
gaunt face of my examiner.

'Whence have you come?' he asked.

'From England.'

'But you are French?'

'Yes.'

'When did you arrive?'

'To-night.'

'How?'

'In a lugger from Dover.'

'The fellow is speaking the truth,' growled Toussac.  'Yes, I'll say
that for him, that he is speaking the truth.  We saw the lugger, and
someone was landed from it just after the boat that brought me over
pushed off.'

I remembered that boat, which had been the first thing which I had seen
upon the coast of France.  How little I had thought what it would mean
to me!

And now my advocate began asking questions--vague, useless questions--in
a slow, hesitating fashion which set Toussac grumbling.  This
cross-examination appeared to me to be a useless farce; and yet there
was a certain eagerness and intensity in my questioner's manner which
gave me the assurance that he had some end in view.  Was it merely that
he wished to gain time?  Time for what?  And then, suddenly, with that
quick perception which comes upon those whose nerves are strained by an
extremity of danger, I became convinced that he really was awaiting
something--that he was tense with expectation.  I read it upon his drawn
face, upon his sidelong head with his ear scooped into his hand, above
all in his twitching, restless eyes.  He expected an interruption, and
he was talking, talking, talking, in order to gain time for it.  I was
as sure of it as if he had whispered his secret in my ear, and down in
my numb, cold heart a warm little spring of hope began to bubble and
run.

But Toussac had chafed at all this word-fencing, and now with an oath he
broke in upon our dialogue.

'I have had enough of this!' he cried.  'It is not for child's play of
this sort that I risked my head in coming over here.  Have we nothing
better to talk about than this fellow?  Do you suppose I came from
London to listen to your fine phrases?  Have done with it, I say, and
get to business.'

'Very good,' said my champion.  'There's an excellent little cupboard
here which makes as fine a prison as one could wish for.  Let us put him
in here, and pass on to business.  We can deal with him when we have
finished.'

'And have him overhear all that we say,' said Lesage.

'I don't know what the devil has come over you,' cried Toussac, turning
suspicious eyes upon my protector.  'I never knew you squeamish before,
and certainly you were not backward in the affair of the man from Bow
Street.  This fellow has our secret, and he must either die, or we shall
see him at our trial.  What is the sense of arranging a plot, and then
at the last moment turning a man loose who will ruin us all?  Let us
snap his neck and have done with it.'

The great hairy hands were stretched towards me again, but Lesage had
sprung suddenly to his feet.  His face had turned very white, and he
stood listening with his forefinger up and his head slanted.  It was a
long, thin, delicate hand, and it was quivering like a leaf in the wind.

'I heard something,' he whispered.

'And I,' said the older man.

'What was it?'

'Silence.  Listen!'

For a minute or more we all stayed with straining ears while the wind
still whimpered in the chimney or rattled the crazy window.

'It was nothing,' said Lesage at last, with a nervous laugh.
'The storm makes curious sounds sometimes.'

'I heard nothing,' said Toussac.

'Hush!' cried the other.  'There it is again!'

A clear rising cry floated high above the wailing of the storm; a wild,
musical cry, beginning on a low note, and thrilling swiftly up to a
keen, sharp-edged howl.

'A hound!'

'They are following us!'

Lesage dashed to the fireplace, and I saw him thrust his papers into the
blaze and grind them down with his heel.

Toussac seized the wood-axe which leaned against the wall.  The thin man
dragged the pile of decayed netting from the corner, and opened a small
wooden screen, which shut off a low recess.

'In here,' he whispered, 'quick!'

And then, as I scrambled into my refuge, I heard him say to the others
that I would be safe there, and that they could lay their hands upon me
when they wished.



CHAPTER V


THE LAW

The cupboard--for it was little more--into which I had been hurried was
low and narrow, and I felt in the darkness that it was heaped with
peculiar round wickerwork baskets, the nature of which I could by no
means imagine, although I discovered afterwards that they were lobster
traps.  The only light which entered was through the cracks of the old
broken door, but these were so wide and numerous that I could see the
whole of the room which I had just quitted.  Sick and faint, with the
shadow of death still clouding my wits, I was none the less fascinated
by the scene which lay before me.

My thin friend, with the same prim composure upon his emaciated face,
had seated himself again upon the box.  With his hands clasped round one
of his knees he was rocking slowly backwards and forwards; and I
noticed, in the lamplight, that his jaw muscles were contracting
rhythmically, like the gills of a fish.  Beside him stood Lesage, his
white face glistening with moisture and his loose lip quivering with
fear.  Every now and then he would make a vigorous attempt to compose
his features, but after each rally a fresh wave of terror would sweep
everything before it, and set him shaking once more.   As to Toussac, he
stood before the fire, a magnificent figure, with the axe held down by
his leg, and his head thrown back in defiance, so that his great black
beard bristled straight out in front of him.  He said not a word, but
every fibre of his body was braced for a struggle.  Then, as the howl of
the hound rose louder and clearer from the marsh outside, he ran forward
and threw open the door.

'No, no, keep the dog out!' cried Lesage in an agony of apprehension.

'You fool, our only chance is to kill it.'

'But it is in leash.'

'If it is in leash nothing can save us.  But if, as I think, it is
running free, then we may escape yet.'

Lesage cowered up against the table, with his agonised eyes fixed upon
the blue-black square of the door.  The man who had befriended me still
swayed his body about with a singular half-smile upon his face.  His
skinny hand was twitching at the frill of his shirt, and I conjectured
that he held some weapon concealed there.  Toussac stood between them
and the open door, and, much as I feared and loathed him, I could not
take my eyes from his gallant figure.  As to myself, I was so much
occupied by the singular drama before me, and by the impending fate of
those three men of the cottage, that all thought of my own fortunes had
passed completely out of my mind.  On this mean stage a terrible
all-absorbing drama was being played, and I, crouching in a squalid
recess, was to be the sole spectator of it.  I could but hold my breath
and wait and watch.

And suddenly I became conscious that they could all three see something
which was invisible to me.  I read it from their tense faces and their
staring eyes.  Toussac swung his axe over his shoulder and poised
himself for a blow.  Lesage cowered away and put one hand between his
eyes and the open door.  The other ceased swinging his spindle legs and
sat like a little brown image upon the edge of his box.  There was a
moist pattering of feet, a yellow streak shot through the doorway, and
Toussac lashed at it as I have seen an English cricketer strike at a
ball.  His aim was true, for he buried the head of the hatchet in the
creature's throat, but the force of his blow shattered his weapon, and
the weight of the hound carried him backwards on to the floor.  Over
they rolled and over, the hairy man and the hairy dog, growling and
worrying in a bestial combat.  He was fumbling at the animal's throat,
and I could not see what he was doing, until it gave a sudden sharp yelp
of pain, and there was a rending sound like the tearing of canvas.
The man staggered up with his hands dripping, and the tawny mass with
the blotch of crimson lay motionless upon the floor.

'Now!' cried Toussac in a voice of thunder, 'now!' and he rushed from
the hut.

Lesage had shrunk away into the corner in a frenzy of fear whilst
Toussac had been killing the hound, but now he raised his agonised face,
which was as wet as if he had dipped it into a basin.

'Yes, yes,' he cried; 'we must fly, Charles.  The hound has left the
police behind, and we may still escape.'

But the other, with the same imperturbable face, motionless save for the
rhythm of his jaw muscles, walked quietly over and closed the door upon
the inside.

'I think, friend Lucien,' said he in his quiet voice, 'that you had best
stay where you are.'

Lesage looked at him with amazement gradually replacing terror upon his
pallid features.

'But you do not understand, Charles,' he cried.

'Oh, yes, I think I do,' said the other, smiling.

'They may be here in a few minutes.  The hound has slipped its leash,
you see, and has left them behind in the marsh; but they are sure to
come here, for there is no other cottage but this.'

'They are sure to come here.'

'Well, then, let us fly.  In the darkness we may yet escape.'

'No; we shall stay where we are.'

'Madman, you may sacrifice your own life, but not mine.  Stay if you
wish, but for my part I am going.'

He ran towards the door with a foolish, helpless flapping of his hands,
but the other sprang in front of him with so determined a gesture of
authority that the younger man staggered back from it as from a blow.

'You fool!' said his companion.  'You poor miserable dupe!'

Lesage's mouth opened, and he stood staring with his knees bent and his
spread-fingered hands up, the most hideous picture of fear that I have
ever seen.

'You, Charles, you!' he stammered, hawking up each word.

'Yes, me,' said the other, smiling grimly.

'A police agent all the time!  You who were the very soul of our
society! You who were in our inmost council!  You who led us on!
Oh, Charles, you have not the heart!  I think I hear them coming,
Charles.  Let me pass; I beg and implore you to let me pass.'

The granite face shook slowly from side to side.

'But why me?  Why not Toussac?'

'If the dog had crippled Toussac, why then I might have had you both.
But friend Toussac is rather vigorous for a thin little fellow like me.
No, no, my good Lucien, you are destined to be the trophy of my bow and
my spear, and you must reconcile yourself to the fact.'

Lesage slapped his forehead as if to assure himself that he was not
dreaming.

'A police agent!' he repeated, 'Charles a police agent!'

'I thought it would surprise you.'

'But you were the most republican of us all.  We were none of us
advanced enough for you.  How often have we gathered round you, Charles,
to listen to your philosophy!  And there is Sibylle, too!  Don't tell me
that Sibylle was a police spy also.  But you are joking, Charles.
Say that you are joking!'

The man relaxed his grim features, and his eyes puckered with amusement.

'Your astonishment is very flattering,' said he.  'I confess that I
thought that I played my part rather cleverly.  It is not my fault that
these bunglers unleashed their hound, but at least I shall have the
credit of having made a single-handed capture of one very desperate and
dangerous conspirator.'  He smiled drily at this description of his
prisoner.  'The Emperor knows how to reward his friends,' he added,
'and also how to punish his enemies.'

All this time he had held his hand in his bosom, and now he drew it out
so far as to show the brass gleam of a pistol butt.

'It is no use,' said he, in answer to some look in the other's eye.
'You stay in the hut, alive or dead.'

Lesage put his hands to his face and began to cry with loud, helpless
sobbings.

'Why, you have been worse than any of us, Charles,' he moaned.  'It was
you who told Toussac to kill the man from Bow Street, and it was you
also who set fire to the house in the Rue Basse de la Rampart.  And now
you turn on us!'

'I did that because I wished to be the one to throw light upon it all--and
at the proper moment.'

'That is very fine, Charles, but what will be thought about that when I
make it all public in my own defence?  How can you explain all that to
your Emperor?  There is still time to prevent my telling all that I know
about you.'

'Well, really, I think that you are right, my friend,' said the other,
drawing out his pistol and cocking it.  'Perhaps I _did_ go a little
beyond my instructions in one or two points, and, as you very properly
remark, there is still time to set it right.  It is a matter of detail
whether I give you up living or give you up dead, and I think that, on
the whole, it had better be dead.'

It had been horrible to see Toussac tear the throat out of the hound,
but it had not made my flesh creep as it crept now.  Pity was mingled
with my disgust for this unfortunate young man, who had been fitted by
Nature for the life of a retired student or of a dreaming poet, but who
had been dragged by stronger wills than his own into a part which no
child could be more incapable of playing.  I forgave him the trick by
which he had caught me and the selfish fears to which he had been
willing to sacrifice me.  He had flung himself down upon the ground, and
floundered about in a convulsion of terror, whilst his terrible little
companion, with his cynical smile, stood over him with his pistol in his
hand.  He played with the helpless panting coward as a cat might with a
mouse; but I read in his inexorable eyes that it was no jest, and his
finger seemed to be already tightening upon his trigger.  Full of horror
at so cold-blooded a murder, I pushed open my crazy cupboard, and had
rushed out to plead for the victim, when there came a buzz of voices and
a clanking of steel from without.  With a stentorian shout of 'In the
name of the Emperor!' a single violent wrench tore the door of the hut
from its hinges.

It was still blowing hard, and through the open doorway I could see a
thick cluster of mounted men, with plumes slanted and mantles flapping,
the rain shining upon their shoulders.  At the side the light from the
hut struck upon the heads of two beautiful horses, and upon the heavy
red-toupeed busbies of the hussars who stood at their heads.  In the
doorway stood another hussar--a man of high rank, as could be seen from
the richness of his dress and the distinction of his bearing.  He was
booted to the knees, with a uniform of light blue and silver, which his
tall, slim, light-cavalry figure suited to a marvel.  I could not but
admire the way in which he carried himself, for he never deigned to draw
the sword which shone at his side, but he stood in the doorway glancing
round the blood-bespattered hut, and staring at its occupants with a
very cool and alert expression.  He had a handsome face, pale and
clear-cut, with a bristling moustache, which cut across the brass
chin-chain of his busby.

'Well,' said he, 'well?'

The older man had put his pistol back into the breast of his brown coat.

'This is Lucien Lesage,' said he.

The hussar looked with disgust at the prostrate figure upon the floor.

'A pretty conspirator!' said he.  'Get up, you grovelling hound! Here,
Gerard, take charge of him and bring him into camp.'

A younger officer with two troopers at his heels came clanking in to the
hut, and the wretched creature, half swooning, was dragged out into the
darkness.

'Where is the other--the man called Toussac?'

'He killed the hound and escaped.  Lesage would have got away also had I
not prevented him.  If you had kept the dog in leash we should have had
them both, but as it is, Colonel Lasalle, I think that you may
congratulate me.'  He held out his hand as he spoke, but the other
turned abruptly on his heel.

'You hear that, General Savary?' said he, looking out of the door.
'Toussac has escaped.'

A tall, dark young man appeared within the circle of light cast by the
lamp.  The agitation of his handsome swarthy face showed the effect
which the news had upon him.

'Where is he then?'

'It is a quarter of an hour since he got away.'

'But he is the only dangerous man of them all.  The Emperor will be
furious.  In which direction did he fly?'

'It must have been inland.'

'But who is this?' asked General Savary, pointing at me.  'I understood
from your information that there were only two besides yourself,
Monsieur--.'

'I had rather no names were mentioned,' said the other abruptly.

'I can well understand that,' General Savary answered with a sneer.

'I would have told you that the cottage was the rendezvous, but it was
not decided upon until the last moment.  I gave you the means of
tracking Toussac, but you let the hound slip.  I certainly think that
you will have to answer to the Emperor for the way in which you have
managed the business.'

'That, sir, is our affair,' said General Savary sternly.  'In the
meantime you have not told us who this person is.'

It seemed useless for me to conceal my identity, since I had a letter in
my pocket which would reveal it.

'My name is Louis de Laval,' said I proudly.

I may confess that I think we had exaggerated our own importance over in
England.  We had thought that all France was wondering whether we should
return, whereas in the quick march of events France had really almost
forgotten our existence.  This young General Savary was not in the least
impressed by my aristocratic name, but he jotted it down in his
notebook.

'Monsieur de Laval has nothing whatever to do with the matter,' said the
spy.  'He has blundered into it entirely by chance, and I will answer
for his safe keeping in case he should be wanted.'

'He will certainly be wanted,' said General Savary.  'In the meantime I
need every trooper that I have for the chase, so, if you make yourself
personally responsible, and bring him to the camp when needed, I see no
objection to his remaining in your keeping.  I shall send to you if I
require him.'

'He will be at the Emperor's orders.'

'Are there any papers in the cottage?'

'They have been burned.'

'That is unfortunate.'

'But I have duplicates.'

'Excellent!  Come, Lasalle, every minute counts, and there is nothing to
be done here.  Let the men scatter, and we may still ride him down.'

The two tall soldiers clanked out of the cottage without taking any
further notice of my companion, and I heard the sharp stern order and
the jingling of metal as the troopers sprang back into their saddles
once more.  An instant later they were off, and I listened to the dull
beat of their hoofs dying rapidly into a confused murmur.  My little
snuff-coloured champion went to the door of the hut and peered after
them through the darkness.  Then he came back and looked me up and down,
with his usual dry sardonic smile.

'Well, young man,' said he, 'we have played some pretty _tableaux
vivants_ for your amusement, and you can thank me for that nice seat in
the front row of the parterre.'

'I am under a very deep obligation to you, sir,' I answered, struggling
between my gratitude and my aversion.  'I hardly know how to thank
you.'

He looked at me with a singular expression in his ironical eyes.

'You will have the opportunity for thanking me later,' said he.
'In the meantime, as you say that you are a stranger upon our coast, and
as I am responsible for your safe keeping, you cannot do better than
follow me, and I will take you to a place where you may sleep in
safety.'



CHAPTER VI


THE SECRET PASSAGE

The fire had already smouldered down, and my companion blew out the
lamp, so that we had not taken ten paces before we had lost sight of the
ill-omened cottage, in which I had received so singular a welcome upon
my home-coming.  The wind had softened down, but a fine rain, cold and
clammy, came drifting up from the sea.  Had I been left to myself I
should have found myself as much at a loss as I had been when I first
landed; but my companion walked with a brisk and assured step, so that
it was evident that he guided himself by landmarks which were invisible
to me.  For my part, wet and miserable, with my forlorn bundle under my
arm, and my nerves all jangled by my terrible experiences, I trudged in
silence by his side, turning over in my mind all that had occurred to
me.  Young as I was, I had heard much political discussion amongst my
elders in England, and the state of affairs in France was perfectly
familiar to me.  I was aware that the recent elevation of Buonaparte to
the throne had enraged the small but formidable section of Jacobins and
extreme Republicans, who saw that all their efforts to abolish a kingdom
had only ended in transforming it into an empire.  It was, indeed, a
pitiable result of their frenzied strivings that a crown with eight
_fleurs-de-lis_ should be changed into a higher crown surmounted by a
cross and ball.  On the other hand, the followers of the Bourbons, in
whose company I had spent my youth, were equally disappointed at the
manner in which the mass of the French people hailed this final step in
the return from chaos to order.  Contradictory as were their motives,
the more violent spirits of both parties were united in their hatred to
Napoleon, and in their fierce determination to get rid of him by any
means.  Hence a series of conspiracies, most of them with their base in
England; and hence also a large use of spies and informers upon the part
of Fouche and of Savary, upon whom the responsibility of the safety of
the Emperor lay.  A strange chance had landed me upon the French coast
at the very same time as a murderous conspirator, and had afterwards
enabled me to see the weapons with which the police contrived to thwart
and outwit him and his associates.  When I looked back upon my series of
adventures, my wanderings in the salt-marsh, my entrance into the
cottage, my discovery of the papers, my capture by the conspirators, the
long period of suspense with Toussac's dreadful thumb upon my chin, and
finally the moving scenes which I had witnessed--the killing of the
hound, the capture of Lesage, and the arrival of the soldiers--I could
not wonder that my nerves were overwrought, and that I surprised myself
in little convulsive gestures, like those of a frightened child.

The chief thought which now filled my mind was what my relations were
with this dangerous man who walked by my side.  His conduct and bearing
had filled me with abhorrence.  I had seen the depth of cunning with
which he had duped and betrayed his companions, and I had read in his
lean smiling face the cold deliberate cruelty of his nature, as he
stood, pistol in hand, over the whimpering coward whom he had outwitted.
Yet I could not deny that when, through my own foolish curiosity, I had
placed myself in a most hopeless position, it was he who had braved the
wrath of the formidable Toussac in order to extricate me.  It was
evident also that he might have made his achievement more striking by
delivering up two prisoners instead of one to the troopers.  It is true
that I was not a conspirator, but I might have found it difficult to
prove it.  So inconsistent did such conduct seem in this little yellow
flint-stone of a man that, after walking a mile or two in silence, I
asked him suddenly what the meaning of it might be.

I heard a dry chuckle in the darkness, as if he were amused by the
abruptness and directness of my question.

'You are a most amusing person, Monsieur--Monsieur--let me see, what did
you say your name was?'

'De Laval.'

'Ah, quite so, Monsieur de Laval.  You have the impetuosity and the
ingenuousness of youth.  You want to know what is up a chimney, you jump
up the chimney.  You want to know the reason of a thing, and you blurt
out a question.  I have been in the habit of living among people who
keep their thoughts to themselves, and I find you very refreshing.'

'Whatever the motives of your conduct, there is no doubt that you saved
my life,' said I.  'I am much obliged to you for your intercession.'
It is the most difficult thing in the world to express gratitude to a
person who fills you with abhorrence, and I fear that my halting speech
was another instance of that ingenuousness of which he accused me.

'I can do without your thanks,' said he coldly.  'You are perfectly
right when you think that if it had suited my purpose I should have let
you perish, and I am perfectly right when I think that if it were not
that you are under an obligation you would fail to see my hand if I
stretched it out to you just as that overgrown puppy Lasalle did.  It is
very honourable, he thinks, to serve the Emperor upon the field of
battle, and to risk life in his behalf, but when it comes to living
amidst danger as I have done, consorting with desperate men, and knowing
well that the least slip would mean death, why then one is beneath the
notice of a fine clean-handed gentleman.  Why,' he continued in a burst
of bitter passion, 'I have dared more, and endured more, with Toussac
and a few of his kidney for comrades, than this Lasalle has done in all
the childish cavalry charges that ever he undertook.  As to service, all
his Marshals put together have not rendered the Emperor as pressing a
service as I have done.  But I daresay it does not strike you in that
light, Monsieur--Monsieur--'

'De Laval.'

'Quite so--it is curious how that name escapes me.  I daresay you take
the same view as Colonel Lasalle?'

'It is not a question upon which I can offer an opinion,' said I.
'I only know that I owe my life to your intercession.'

I do not know what reply he might have made to this evasion, but at that
moment we heard a couple of pistol shots and a distant shouting from far
away in the darkness.  We stopped for a few minutes, but all was silent
once more.

'They must have caught sight of Toussac,' said my companion.  'I am
afraid that he is too strong and too cunning to be taken by them.  I do
not know what impression he left upon you, but I can tell you that you
will go far to meet a more dangerous man.'

I answered that I would go far to avoid meeting one, unless I had the
means of defending myself, and my companion's dry chuckle showed that he
appreciated my feelings.

'Yet he is an absolutely honest man, which is no very common thing in
these days,' said he.  'He is one of those who, at the outbreak of the
Revolution, embraced it with the whole strength of his simple nature.
He believed what the writers and the speakers told him, and he was
convinced that, after a little disturbance and a few necessary
executions, France was to become a heaven upon earth, the centre of
peace and comfort and brotherly love.  A good many people got those fine
ideas into their heads, but the heads have mostly dropped into the
sawdust-basket by this time.  Toussac was true to them, and when instead
of peace he found war, instead of comfort a grinding poverty, and
instead of equality an Empire, it drove him mad.  He became the fierce
creature you see, with the one idea of devoting his huge body and
giant's strength to the destruction of those who had interfered with his
ideal.  He is fearless, persevering, and implacable.  I have no doubt at
all that he will kill me for the part that I have played to-night.'

It was in the calmest voice that my companion uttered the remark, and it
made me understand that it was no boast when he said there was more
courage needed to carry on his unsavoury trade than to play the part of
a _beau sabreur_ like Lasalle.  He paused a little, and then went on as
if speaking to himself.

'Yes,' said he, 'I missed my chance.  I certainly  ought to have shot
him when he was struggling with the hound.  But if I had only wounded
him he would have torn me into bits like an over-boiled pullet, so
perhaps it is as well as it is.'

We had left the salt-marsh behind us, and for some time I had felt the
soft springy turf of the downland beneath my feet, and our path had
risen and dipped over the curves of the low coast hills.  In spite of
the darkness my companion walked with great assurance, never hesitating
for an instant, and keeping up a stiff pace which was welcome to me in
my sodden and benumbed condition.  I had been so young when I left my
native place that it is doubtful whether, even in daylight, I should
have recognised the countryside, but now in the darkness, half stupefied
by my adventures, I could not form the least idea as to where we were or
what we were making for.  A certain recklessness had taken possession of
me, and I cared little where I went as long as I could gain the rest and
shelter of which I stood in need.

I do not know how long we had walked; I only know that I had dozed and
woke and dozed again whilst still automatically keeping pace with my
comrade, when I was at last aroused by his coming to a dead stop.
The rain had ceased, and although the moon was still obscured, the
heavens had cleared somewhat, and I could see for a little distance in
every direction.  A huge white basin gaped in front of us, and I made
out that it was a deserted chalk quarry, with brambles and ferns growing
thickly all round the edges.  My companion, after a stealthy glance
round to make sure that no one was observing us, picked his way amongst
the scattered clumps of bushes until he reached the wall of chalk.  This
he skirted for some distance, squeezing between the cliff and the
brambles until he came at last to a spot where all further progress
appeared to be impossible.

'Can you see a light behind us?' asked my companion.

I turned round and looked carefully in every direction, but was unable
to see one.

'Never mind,' said he.  'You go first, and I will follow.'

In some way during the instant that my back had been turned he had swung
aside or plucked out the tangle of bush which had barred our way.  When
I turned there was a square dark opening in the white glimmering wall in
front of us.

'It is small at the entrance, but it grows larger further in,' said he.

I hesitated for an instant.  Whither was it that this strange man was
leading me?  Did he live in a cave like a wild beast, or was this some
trap into which he was luring me?  The moon shone out at the instant,
and in its silver light this black, silent porthole looked inexpressibly
cheerless and menacing.

'You have gone rather far to turn back, my good friend,' said my
companion.  'You must either trust me altogether or not trust me at
all.'

'I am at your disposal.'

'Pass in then, and I shall follow.'

I crept into the narrow passage, which was so low that I had to crawl
down it upon my hands and knees.  Craning my neck round, I could see the
black angular silhouette of my companion as he came after me.  He paused
at the entrance, and then, with a rustling of branches and snapping of
twigs, the faint light was suddenly shut off from outside, and we were
left in pitchy darkness.  I heard the scraping of his knees as he
crawled up behind me.

'Go on until you come to a step down,' said he.  'We shall have more
room there, and we can strike a light.'

The ceiling was so low that by arching my back I could easily strike it,
and my elbows touched the wall upon either side.  In those days I was
slim and lithe, however, so that I found no difficulty in making my way
onwards until, at the end of a hundred paces, or it may have been a
hundred and fifty, I felt with my hands that there was a dip in front of
me.  Down this I clambered, and was instantly conscious from the purer
air that I was in some larger cavity.  I heard the snapping of my
companion's flint, and the red glow of the tinder paper leaped suddenly
into the clear yellow flame of the taper.  At first I could only see
that stern, emaciated face, like some grotesque carving in walnut wood,
with the ceaseless fishlike vibration of the muscles of his jaw.  The
light beat full upon it, and it stood strangely out with a dim halo
round it in the darkness.  Then he raised the taper and swept it slowly
round at arm's length so as to illuminate the place in which we stood.

I found that we were in a subterranean tunnel, which appeared to extend
into the bowels of the earth.  It was so high that I could stand erect
with ease, and the old lichen-blotched stones which lined the walls told
of its great age.  At the spot where we stood the ceiling had fallen in
and the original passage been blocked, but a cutting had been made from
this point through the chalk to form the narrow burrow along which we
had come.  This cutting appeared to be quite recent, for a mound of
_debris_ and some trenching tools were still lying in the passage.
My companion, taper in hand, started off down the tunnel, and I followed
at his heels, stepping over the great stones which had fallen from the
roof or the walls, and now obstructed the path.

'Well,' said he, grinning at me over his shoulder, 'have you ever seen
anything like this in England?'

'Never,' I answered.

'These are the precautions and devices which men adopted in rough days
long ago.  Now that rough days have come again, they are very useful to
those who know of such places.'

'Whither does it lead, then?' I asked.

'To this,' said he, stopping before an old wooden door, powerfully
clamped with iron.  He fumbled with the metal-work, keeping himself
between me and it, so that I could not see what he was doing.  There was
a sharp snick, and the door revolved slowly upon its hinges.  Within
there was a steep flight of time-worn steps leading upwards.  He
motioned me on, and closed the door behind us.  At the head of the stair
there was a second wooden gate, which he opened in a similar manner.

I had been dazed before ever I came into the chalk pit, but now, at this
succession of incidents, I began to rub my eyes and ask myself whether
this was young Louis de Laval, late of Ashford, in Kent, or whether it
was some dream of the adventures of a hero of Pigault Lebrun.  These
massive moss-grown arches and mighty iron-clamped doors were, indeed,
like the dim shadowy background of a vision; but the guttering taper, my
sodden bundle, and all the sordid details of my disarranged toilet
assured me only too clearly of their reality.  Above all, the swift,
brisk, business-like manner of my companion, and his occasional abrupt
remarks, brought my fancies back to the ground once more.  He held the
door open for me now, and closed it again when I had passed through.

We found ourselves in a long vaulted corridor, with a stone-flagged
floor, and a dim oil lamp burning at the further end.  Two iron-barred
windows showed that we had come above the earth's surface once more.
Down this corridor we passed, and then through several passages and up a
short winding stair.  At the head of it was an open door, which led into
a small but comfortable bedroom.

'I presume that this will satisfy your wants for to-night,' said he.

I asked for nothing better than to throw myself down, damp clothes and
all, upon that snowy coverlet; but for the instant my curiosity overcame
my fatigue.

'I am much indebted to you, sir,' said I.  'Perhaps you will add to your
favours by letting me know where I am.'

'You are in my house, and that must suffice you for to-night.  In the
morning we shall go further into the matter.' He rang a small bell, and
a gaunt shock-headed country man-servant came running at the call.

'Your mistress has retired, I suppose?'

'Yes, sir, a good two hours ago.'

'Very good.  I shall call you myself in the morning.'  He closed my
door, and the echo of his steps seemed hardly to have died from my ears
before I had sunk into that deep and dreamless sleep which only youth
and fatigue can give.



CHAPTER VII


THE OWNER OF GROSBOIS

My host was as good as his word, for, when a noise in my room awoke me
in the morning, it was to find him standing by the side of my bed, so
composed in his features and so drab in his attire, that it was hard to
associate him with the stirring scenes of yesterday and with the
repulsive part which he had played in them.  Now in the fresh morning
sunlight he presented rather the appearance of a pedantic schoolmaster,
an impression which was increased by the masterful, and yet benevolent,
smile with which he regarded me.  In spite of his smile, I was more
conscious than ever that my whole soul shrank from him, and that I
should not be at my ease until I had broken this companionship which had
been so involuntarily formed.  He carried a heap of clothes over one
arm, which he threw upon a chair at the bottom of my bed.

'I gather from the little that you told me last night,' said he, 'that
your wardrobe is at present somewhat scanty.  I fear that your inches
are greater than those of anyone in my household, but I have brought a
few things here amongst which you may find something to fit you.
Here, too, are the razors, the soap, and the powder-box.  I will return
in half an hour, when your toilet will doubtless be completed.'

I found that my own clothes, with a little brushing, were as good as
ever, but I availed myself of his offer to the extent of a ruffled shirt
and a black satin cravat.  I had finished dressing and was looking out
of the window of my room, which opened on to a blank wall, when my host
returned.  He looked me all over with a keenly scrutinising eye, and
appeared to be satisfied with what he saw.

'That will do!  That will do very well indeed!' said he, nodding a
critical head.  'In these times a slight indication of travel or hard
work upon a costume is more fashionable than the foppishness of the
Incroyable.  I have heard ladies remark that it was in better taste.
Now, sir, if you will kindly follow me.'

His solicitude about my dress filled me with surprise, but this was soon
forgotten in the shock which was awaiting me.  For as we passed down the
passage and into a large hall which seemed strangely familiar to me,
there was a full-length portrait of my father standing right in front of
me.  I stood staring with a gasp of astonishment, and turned to see the
cold grey eyes of my companion fixed upon me with a humorous glitter.

'You seem surprised, Monsieur de Laval,' said he.

'For God's sake,' said I, 'do not trifle with me any further!  Who are
you, and what is this place  to which you have taken me?'

For answer he broke into one of his dry chuckles, and, laying his skinny
brown hand upon my wrist, he led me into a large apartment.  In the
centre was a table, tastefully laid, and beyond it in a low chair a
young lady was seated, with a book in her hand.  She rose as we entered,
and I saw that she was tall and slender, with a dark face, pronounced
features, and black eyes of extraordinary brilliancy.  Even in that one
glance it struck me that the expression with which she regarded me was
by no means a friendly one.

'Sibylle,' said my host, and his words took the breath from my lips,
'this is your cousin from England, Louis de Laval.  This, my dear
nephew, is my only daughter, Sibylle Bernac.'

'Then you--'

'I am your mother's brother, Charles Bernac.'

'You are my Uncle Bernac!' I stammered at him like an idiot.  'But why
did you not tell me so?' I cried.

'I was not sorry to have a chance of quietly observing what his English
education had done for my nephew.  It might also have been harder for me
to stand your friend if my comrades had any reason to think that I was
personally interested in you.  But you will permit me now to welcome you
heartily to France, and to express my regret if your reception has been
a rough one.  I am sure that Sibylle will help me to atone for it.'
He smiled archly at his daughter, who continued to regard me with a
stony face.

I looked round me, and gradually the spacious room, with the weapons
upon the wall, and the deer's heads, came dimly back to my memory.
That view through the oriel window, too, with the clump of oaks in the
sloping park, and the sea in the distance beyond, I had certainly seen
it before.  It was true then, and I was in our own castle of Grosbois,
and this dreadful man in the snuff-coloured coat, this sinister plotter
with the death's-head face, was the man whom I had heard my poor father
curse so often, the man who had ousted him from his own property and
installed himself in his place.  And yet I could not forget that it was
he also who, at some risk to himself, had saved me the night before, and
my soul was again torn between my gratitude and my repulsion.

We had seated ourselves at the table, and as we ate, this newly-found
uncle of mine continued to explain all those points which I had failed
to understand.

'I suspected that it was you the instant that I set eyes upon you,' said
he.  'I am old enough to remember your father when he was a young
gallant, and you are his very double--though I may say, without
flattery, that where there is a difference it is in your favour.
And yet he had the name of being one of the handsomest men betwixt Rouen
and the sea.  You must bear in mind that I was expecting you, and that
there are not so many young aristocrats of your age wandering about
along the coast.  I was surprised when you did not recognise where you
were last night.  Had you never heard of the secret passage of
Grosbois?'

It came vaguely back to me that in my childhood I had heard of this
underground tunnel, but that the roof had fallen in and rendered it
useless.

'Precisely,' said my uncle.  'When the castle passed into my hands, one
of the very first things which I did was to cut a new opening at the end
of it, for I foresaw that in these troublesome times it might be of use
to me; indeed, had it been in repair it might have made the escape of
your mother and father a very much easier affair.'

His words recalled all that I had heard and all that I could remember of
those dreadful days when we, the Lords of the country side, had been
chased across it as if we had been wolves, with the howling mob still
clustering at the pier-head to shake their fists and hurl their stones
at us.  I remembered, too, that it was this very man who was speaking to
me who had thrown oil upon the flames in those days, and whose fortunes
had been founded upon our ruin.  As I looked across at him I found that
his keen grey eyes were fixed upon me, and I could see that he had read
the thoughts in my mind.

'We must let bygones be bygones,' said he.  'Those are quarrels of the
last generation, and Sibylle and you represent a new one.'

My cousin had not said one word or taken any notice of my presence, but
at this joining of our names she glanced at me with the same hostile
expression which I had already remarked.

'Come, Sibylle,' said her father, 'you can assure your cousin Louis
that, so far as you are concerned, any family misunderstanding is at an
end.'

'It is very well for us to talk in that way, father,' she answered.
'It is not your picture that hangs in the hall, or your coat-of-arms
that I see upon the wall.  We hold the castle and the land, but it is
for the heir of the de Lavals to tell _us_ if he is satisfied with
this.'  Her dark scornful eyes were fixed upon me as she waited for my
reply, but her father hastened to intervene.

'This is not a very hospitable tone in which to greet your cousin,' said
he harshly.  'It has so chanced that Louis' heritage has fallen to us,
but it is not for us to remind him of the fact.'

'He needs no reminding,' said she.

'You do me an injustice,' I cried, for the evident and malignant scorn
of this girl galled me to the quick.  'It is true that I cannot forget
that this castle and these grounds belonged to my ancestors--I should be
a clod indeed if I _could_ forget it--but if you think that I harbour
any bitterness, you are mistaken.  For my own part, I ask nothing better
than to open up a career for myself with my own sword.'

'And never was there a time when it could be more easily and more
brilliantly done,' cried my uncle.  'There are great things about to
happen in the world, and if you are at the Emperor's court you will be
in the middle of them.  I understand that you are content to serve him?'

'I wish to serve my country.'

'By serving the Emperor you do so, for without him the country becomes
chaos.'

'From all we hear it is not a very easy service,' said my cousin.
'I should have thought that you would have been very much more
comfortable in England--and then you would have been so much safer
also.'

Everything which the girl said seemed to be meant as an insult to me,
and yet I could not imagine how I had ever offended her.  Never had I
met a woman for whom I conceived so hearty and rapid a dislike.  I could
see that her remarks were as offensive to her father as they were to me,
for he looked at her with eyes which were as angry as her own.

'Your cousin is a brave man, and that is more than can be said for
someone else that I could mention,' said he.

'For whom?' she asked.

'Never mind!' he snapped, and, jumping up with the air of a man who is
afraid that his rage may master him, and that he may say more than he
wished, he ran from the room.

She seemed startled by this retort of his, and rose as if she would
follow him.  Then she tossed her head and laughed incredulously.

'I suppose that you have never met your uncle before?' said she, after a
few minutes of embarrassed silence.

'Never,' answered I.

'Well, what do you think of him now you _have_ met him?'

Such a question from a daughter about her father filled me with a
certain vague horror.  I felt that he must be even a worse man than I
had taken him for if he had so completely forfeited the loyalty of his
own nearest and dearest.

'Your silence is a sufficient answer,' said she, as I hesitated for a
reply.  'I do not know how you came to meet him last night, or what
passed between you, for we do not share each other's confidences.
I think, however, that you have read him aright.  Now I have something
to ask you.  You had a letter from him inviting you to leave England and
to come here, had you not?'

'Yes, I had.'

'Did you observe nothing on the outside?'

I thought of those two sinister words which had puzzled me so much.

'What! it was you who warned me not to come?'

'Yes, it was I.  I had no other means of doing it.'

'But why did you do it?'

'Because I did not wish you to come here.'

'Did you think that I would harm you?'

She sat silent for a few seconds like one who is afraid of saying too
much.  When her answer came it was a very unexpected one:

'I was afraid that you would be harmed.'

'You think that I am in danger here?'

'I am sure of it.'

'You advise me to leave?'

'Without losing an instant.'

'From whom is the danger then?'

Again she hesitated, and then, with a reckless motion like one who
throws prudence to the winds, she turned upon me.

'It is from my father,' said she.

'But why should he harm me?'

'That is for your sagacity to discover.'

'But I assure you, mademoiselle, that in this matter you misjudge him,'
said I.  'As it happens, he interfered to save my life last night.'

'To save your life!  From whom?'

'From two conspirators whose plans I had chanced to discover.'

'Conspirators!'  She looked at me in surprise.

'They would have killed me if he had not intervened.'

'It is not his interest that you should be harmed yet awhile.  He had
reasons for wishing you to come to Castle Grosbois.  But I have been
very frank with you, and I wish you to be equally so with me.  Does it
happen--does it happen that during your youth in England you have ever--you
have ever had an affair of the heart?'

Everything which this cousin of mine said appeared to me to be stranger
than the last, and this question, coming at the end of so serious a
conversation, was the strangest of all.  But frankness begets frankness,
and I did not hesitate.

'I have left the very best and truest girl in the world behind me in
England,' said I.  'Eugenie is her name, Eugenie de Choiseul, the niece
of the old Duke.'

My reply seemed to give my cousin great satisfaction.  Her large dark
eyes shone with  pleasure.

'You are very attached?' she asked.

'I shall never be happy until I see her.'

'And you would not give her up?'

'God forbid!'

'Not for the Castle of Grosbois?'

'Not even for that.'

My cousin held out her hand to me with a charmingly frank impulsiveness.

'You will forgive me for my rudeness,' said she.  'I see that we are to
be allies and not enemies.'

And our hands were still clasped when her father re-entered the room.



CHAPTER VIII


COUSIN SIBYLLE

I could see in my uncle's grim face as he looked at us the keenest
satisfaction contending with surprise at this sign of our sudden
reconciliation.  All trace of his recent anger seemed to have left him
as he addressed his daughter, but in spite of his altered tone I noticed
that her eyes looked defiance and distrust.

'I have some papers of importance to look over,' said he.  'For an hour
or so I shall be engaged.  I can guess that Louis would like to see the
old place once again, and I am sure that he could not have a better
guide than you, Sibylle, if you will take him over it.'

She raised no objection, and for my part I was overjoyed at the
proposal, as it gave me an opportunity of learning more of this singular
cousin of mine, who had told me so much and yet seemed to know so much
more.  What was the meaning of this obscure warning which she had given
me against her father, and why was she so frankly anxious to know about
my love affairs?  These were the two questions which pressed for an
answer.  So out we went together into the sweet coast-land air, the
sweeter for the gale of the night before, and we walked through the old
yew-lined paths, and out into the park, and so round the castle, looking
up at the gables, the grey pinnacles, the oak-mullioned windows, the
ancient wing with its crenulated walls and its meurtriere windows, the
modern with its pleasant verandah and veil of honeysuckle.  And as she
showed me each fresh little detail, with a particularity which made me
understand how dear the place had become to her, she would still keep
offering her apologies for the fact that she should be the hostess and I
the visitor.

'It is not against you but against ourselves that I was bitter,' said
she, 'for are we not the cuckoos who have taken a strange nest and
driven out those who built it?  It makes me blush to think that my
father should invite you to your own house.'

'Perhaps we had been rooted here too long,' I answered.  'Perhaps it is
for our own good that we are driven out to carve our own fortunes, as I
intend to do.'

'You say that you are going to the Emperor?'

'Yes.'

'You know that he is in camp near here?'

'So I have heard.'

'But your family is still proscribed?'

'I have done him no harm.  I will go boldly to him and ask him to admit
me into his service.'

'Well,' said she, 'there are some who call him a usurper, and wish him
all evil; but for my own part I have never heard of anything that he has
said and done which was not great and noble.  But I had expected that
you would be quite an Englishman, Cousin Louis, and come over here with
your pockets full of Pitt's guineas and your heart of treason.'

'I have met nothing but hospitality from the English,' I answered; 'but
my heart has always been French.'

'But your father fought against us at Quiberon.'

'Let each generation settle its own quarrels,' said I.  'I am quite of
your father's opinion about that.'

'Do not judge my father by his words, but by his deeds,' said she, with
a warning finger upraised; 'and, above all, Cousin Louis, unless you
wish to have my life upon your conscience, never let him suspect that I
have said a word to set you on your guard.'

'Your life!' I gasped.

'Oh, yes, he would not stick at that!' she cried.  'He killed my mother.
I do not say that he slaughtered her, but I mean that his cold brutality
broke her gentle heart.  Now perhaps you begin to understand why I can
talk of him in this fashion.'

As she spoke I could see the secret broodings of years, the bitter
resentments crushed down in her silent soul, rising suddenly to flush
her dark cheeks and to gleam in her splendid eyes.  I realised at that
moment that in that tall slim figure there dwelt an unconquerable
spirit.

'You must think that I speak very freely to you, since I have only known
you a few hours, Cousin Louis,' said she.

'To whom should you speak freely if not to your own relative?'

'It is true; and yet I never expected that I should be on such terms
with you.  I looked forward to your coming with dread and sorrow.
No doubt I showed something of my feelings when my father brought you
in.'

'Indeed you did,' I answered.  'I feared that my presence was unwelcome
to you.'

'Most unwelcome, both for your own sake and for mine,' said she.
'For your sake because I suspected, as I have told you, that my father's
intentions might be unfriendly.  For mine--'

'Why for yours?' I asked in surprise, for she had stopped in
embarrassment.

'You have told me that your heart is another's.  I may tell you that my
hand is also promised, and that my love has gone with it.'

'May all happiness attend it!' said I.  'But why should this make my
coming unwelcome?'

'That thick English air has dimmed your wits, cousin,' said she, shaking
her stately head at me.  'But I can speak freely now that I know that
this plan would be as hateful to you as to me.  You must know, then,
that if my father could have married us he would have united all claims
to the succession of Grosbois.  Then, come what might--Bourbon or
Buonaparte--nothing could shake his position.'

I thought of the solicitude which he had shown over my toilet in the
morning, his anxiety that I should make a favourable impression, his
displeasure when she had been cold to me, and the smile upon his face
when he had seen us hand in hand.

'I believe you are right!' I cried.

'Right!  Of course I am right!  Look at him watching us now.'

We were walking on the edge of the dried moat, and as I looked up there,
sure enough, was the little yellow face toned towards us in the angle of
one of the windows.  Seeing that I was watching him, he rose and waved
his hand merrily.

'Now you know why he saved your life--since you say that he saved it,'
said she.  'It would suit his plans best that you should marry his
daughter, and so he wished you to live.  But when once he understands
that that is impossible, why then, my poor Cousin Louis, his only way of
guarding against the return of the de Lavals must lie in ensuring that
there are none to return.'

It was those words of hers, coupled with that furtive yellow face still
lurking at the window, which made me realise the imminence of my danger.
No one in France had any reason to take an interest in me.  If I were to
pass away there was no one who could make inquiry--I was absolutely in
his power.  My memory told me what a ruthless and dangerous man it was
with whom I had to deal.

'But,' said I, 'he must have known that your affections were already
engaged.'

'He did,' she answered; 'it was that which made me most uneasy of all.
I was afraid for you and afraid for myself, but, most of all, I was
afraid for Lucien.  No man can stand in the way of his plans.'

'Lucien!  'The name was like a lightning flash upon a dark night.  I had
heard of the vagaries of a woman's love, but was it possible that this
spirited woman loved that poor creature whom I had seen grovelling last
night in a frenzy of fear?  But now I remembered also where I had seen
the name Sibylle.  It was upon the fly-leaf of his book.  'Lucien, from
Sibylle,' was the inscription.  I recalled also that my uncle had said
something to him about his aspirations.

'Lucien is hot-headed, and easily carried away,' said she.  'My father
has seen a great deal of him lately.  They sit for hours in his room,
and Lucien will say nothing of what passes between them.  I fear that
there is something going forward which may lead to evil.  Lucien is a
student rather than a man of the world, but he has strong opinions about
politics.'

I was at my wit's ends what to do, whether to be silent, or to tell her
of the terrible position in which her lover was placed; but, even as I
hesitated, she, with the quick intuition of a woman, read the doubts
which were in my mind.

'You know something of him,' she cried.  'I understood that he had gone
to Paris.  For God's sake tell me what you know about him!'

'His name is Lesage?'

'Yes, yes.  Lucien Lesage.'

'I have--I have seen him,' I stammered.

'You have seen him!  And you only arrived in France last night.
Where did you see him? What has happened to him?'  She gripped me by the
wrist in her anxiety.

It was cruel to tell her, and yet it seemed more cruel still to keep
silent.  I looked round in my bewilderment, and there was my uncle
himself coming along over the close-cropped green lawn.  By his side,
with a merry clashing of steel and jingling of spurs, there walked a
handsome young hussar--the same to whom the charge of the prisoner had
been committed upon the night before.  Sibylle never hesitated for an
instant, but, with a set face and blazing eyes, she swept towards them.

'Father,' said she, 'what have you done with Lucien?'

I saw his impassive face wince for a moment before the passionate hatred
and contempt which he read in her eyes.  'We will discuss this at some
future time,' said he.

'I will know here and now,' she cried.  'What have you done with
Lucien?'

'Gentlemen,' said he, turning to the young hussar and me,' I am sorry
that we should intrude our little domestic differences upon your
attention.  You will, I am sure, make allowances, lieutenant, when I
tell you that your prisoner of last night was a very dear friend of my
daughter's.  Such family considerations do not prevent me from doing my
duty to the Emperor, but they make that duty more painful than it would
otherwise be.'

'You have my sympathy, mademoiselle,' said the young hussar.

It was to him that my cousin had now turned.

'Do I understand that you took him prisoner?' she asked.

'It was unfortunately my duty.'

'From you I will get the truth.  Whither did you take him?'

'To the Emperor's camp.'

'And why?'

'Ah, mademoiselle, it is not for me to go into politics.  My duties are
but to wield a sword, and sit a horse, and obey my orders.  Both these
gentlemen will be my witnesses that I received my instructions from
Colonel Lasalle.'

'But on what charge was he arrested?'

'Tut, tut, child, we have had enough of this!' said my uncle harshly.
'If you insist upon knowing I will tell you once and for all, that
Monsieur Lucien Lesage has been seized for being concerned in a plot
against the life of the Emperor, and that it was my privilege to
denounce the would-be assassin.'

'To denounce him!' cried the girl.  'I know that it was you who set him
on, who encouraged him, who held him to it whenever he tried to draw
back.  Oh, you villain! you villain!  What have I over done, what sin of
my ancestors am I expiating, that I should be compelled to call such a
man Father?'

My uncle shrugged his shoulders as if to say that it was useless to
argue with a woman's tantrums.  The hussar and I made as if we would
stroll away, for it was embarrassing to stand listening to such words,
but in her fury she called to us to stop and be witnesses against him.
Never have I seen such a recklessness of passion as blazed in her dry
wide-opened eyes.

'You have deceived others, but you have never deceived me,' she cried.
'I know you as your own conscience knows you.  You may murder me, as you
murdered my mother before me, but you can never frighten me into being
your accomplice.  You proclaimed yourself a Republican that you might
creep into a house and estate which do not belong to you.  And now you
try to make a friend of Buonaparte by betraying your old associates, who
still trust in you.  And you have sent Lucien to his death!  But I know
your plans, and my Cousin Louis knows them also, and I can assure you
that there is just as much chance of his agreeing to them as there is of
my doing so.  I'd rather lie in my grave than be the wife of any man but
Lucien.'

'If you had seen the pitiful poltroon that he proved himself you would
not say so,' said my uncle coolly.  'You are not yourself at present,
but when you return to your right mind you will be ashamed of having
made this public exposure of your weakness.  And now, lieutenant, you
have something to say.'

'My message was to you, Monsieur de Laval,' said the young hussar,
turning his back contemptuously upon my uncle.  'The Emperor has sent me
to bring you to him at once at the camp at Boulogne.'

My heart leapt at the thought of escaping from my uncle.

'I ask nothing better,' I cried.

'A horse and an escort are waiting at the gates.'

'I am ready to start at this instant.'

'Nay, there can be no such very great hurry,' said my uncle.  'Surely
you will wait for luncheon, Lieutenant Gerard.'

'The Emperor's commissions, sir, are not carried out in such a manner,'
said the young hussar sternly.  'I have already wasted too much time.
We must be upon our way in five minutes.'

My uncle placed his hand upon my arm and led me slowly towards the
gateway, through which my cousin Sibylle had already passed.

'There is one matter that I wish to speak to you about before you go.
Since my time is so short you will forgive me if I introduce it without
preamble.  You have seen your cousin Sibylle, and though her behaviour
this morning is such as to prejudice you against her, yet I can assure
you that she is a very amiable girl.  She spoke just now as if she had
mentioned the plan which I had conceived to you.  I confess to you that
I cannot imagine anything more convenient than that we should unite in
order to settle once for all every question as to which branch of the
family shall hold the estates.'

'Unfortunately,' said I, 'there are objections.'

'And pray what are they?'

'The fact that my cousin's hand, as I have just learned, is promised to
another.'

'That need not hinder us,' said he, with a sour smile; 'I will undertake
that he never claims the promise.'

'I fear that I have the English idea of marriage, that it should go by
love and not by convenience.  But in any case your scheme is out of the
question, for my own affections are pledged to a young lady in England.'

He looked wickedly at me out of the corners of his grey eyes.

'Think well what you are doing, Louis,' said he, in a sibilant whisper
which was as menacing as a serpent's hiss.  'You are deranging my plans,
and that is not done with impunity.'

'It is not a matter in which I have any choice.'

He gripped me by the sleeve, and waved his hand round as Satan may have
done when he showed the kingdoms and principalities.  'Look at the
park,' he cried, 'the fields, the woods.  Look at the old castle in
which your fathers have lived for eight hundred years.  You have but to
say the word and it is all yours once more.'

There flashed up into my memory the little red-brick house at Ashford,
and Eugenie's sweet pale face looking over the laurel bushes which grew
by the window.

'It is impossible!' said I.

There must have been something in my manner which made him comprehend
that it really was so, for his face darkened with anger, and his
persuasion changed in an instant to menace.

'If I had known this they might have done what they wished with you last
night,' said he, 'I would never have put out a finger to save you.'

'I am glad to hear you say so,' I answered, 'for it makes it easier for
me to say that I wish to go my own way, and to have nothing more to do
with you.  What you have just said frees me from the bond of gratitude
which held me back.'

'I have no doubt that you would like to have nothing more to do with
me,' he cried.  'You will wish it more heartil