The one thing required by my plan was that I should get speech with her; that done, I could trust myself and my new-found weapon for the rest. But that was absolutely necessary, and, seeing that there might be some difficulty about it, I determined to descend as if my mind were made up to go; then, on pretence of saddling my horse, I would slip away on foot, and lie in wait near the Chateau until I saw her come out. Or if I could not effect my purpose in that way--either by reason of the landlord's vigilance, or for any other cause--my course was still easy. I would ride away, and when I had proceeded a mile or so, tie up my horse in the forest and return to the wooden bridge. Thence I could watch the garden and front of the Chateau until time and chance gave me the opportunity I sought.
So I saw my way quite clearly; and when the fellow below called me, reminding me rudely that I must be going, and that it was six o'clock, I was ready with my answer. I shouted sulkily that I was coming, and, after a decent delay, I took up my saddle and bags and went down.
Viewed by the light of a cold morning, the inn-room looked more smoky, more grimy, more wretched than when I had last seen it. The goodwife was not visible. The fire was not lighted. No provision, not so much as a stirrup-cup or bowl of porridge cheered the heart.
I looked round, sniffing the stale smell of last night's lamp, and grunted.
'Are you going to send me out fasting?' I said, affecting a worse humour than I felt.
The landlord was standing by the window, stooping over a great pair of frayed and furrowed thigh-boots which he was labouring to soften with copious grease.
'Mademoiselle ordered no breakfast,' he answered, with a malicious grin.
'Well it does not much matter,' I replied grandly. 'I shall be at Auch by noon.'
'That is as may be,' he answered with another grin.
I did not understand him, but I had something else to think about, and I opened the door and stepped out, intending to go to the stable. Then in a second I comprehended. The cold air laden with woodland moisture met me and went to my bones; but it was not that which made me shiver. Outside the door, in the road, sitting on horseback in silence, were two men. One was Clon.
The other, who had a spare horse by the rein--my horse--was a man I had seen at the inn, a rough, shock-headed, hard-bitten fellow. Both were armed, and Clon was booted. His mate rode barefoot, with a rusty spur strapped to one heel.
The moment I saw them a sure and certain fear crept into my mind: it was that which made me shiver But I did not speak to them. I went in again and closed the door behind me. The landlord was putting on his boots.
'What does this mean?' I said hoarsely--though I had a clear prescience of what was coming. 'Why are these men here?'
'Orders,' he answered laconically.
'Whose orders?' I retorted.
'Whose?' he answered bluntly. 'Well, Monsieur, that is my business. Enough that we mean to see you out of the country, and out of harm's way.'
'But if I will not go?' I cried.
'Monsieur will go,' he answered coolly. 'There are no strangers in the village to-day,' he added, with a significant smile.
'Do you mean to kidnap me?' I replied, in a rage.
But behind the rage was something else--I will not call it terror, for the brave feel no terror but it was near akin to it. I had had to do with rough men all my life, but there was a grimness and truculence in the aspect of these three that shook me. When I thought of the dark paths and narrow lanes and cliff sides we must traverse, whichever road we took, I trembled.
'Kidnap you, Monsieur?' he answered, with an every-day air. 'That is as you please to call it. One thing is certain, however,' he continued, maliciously touching an arquebuss which he had brought out, and set upright against a chair while I was at the door; if you attempt the slightest resistance, we shall know how to put an end to it, either here or on the road.'
