After awhile Gilles ventured to open the door very cautiously. A faint murmur of people stirring came from very far away; the shuffling footsteps of the torch-bearers died away in the distant corridors.
And once more all was still.
IV
Gilles gave vent to his feelings by a long-drawn-out 'Phew!' of obvious relief; but the next moment he said, quite coolly:
'Pardi, my good Jehan! but we did not want to be caught hiding in this place like a couple of malefactors, did we?' and made straightway to re-open the door. Jehan seized him by the arm and clung to him with all his might.
'Why shouldn't we st-st-st-stay here?' he urged almost glibly.
Gilles shrugged his shoulders. 'Why not, indeed?' he retorted. 'Something has got to happen presently,' he added carelessly. 'Somebody has got to come. If it is not Madame Jacqueline—and, honestly, my good Jehan, I have small hopes of that—If it is not Madame, then——'
He paused and frowned. For the first time a sharp suspicion had crossed his mind. Had he proved himself to be a vanity-ridden coxcomb after all? Should not the most elementary prudence have dictated....? Bah! whatever prudence had dictated, Gilles would not have listened. He was out for adventure! Whether gallant or dangerous he did not care! Once more he shrugged his broad shoulders and unconsciously his slender hand gripped the hilt of his splendid Spanish sword.
He threw a quick glance around him. Through the open door, the huge metal lamps which illumined the hall beyond threw a wide shaft of golden light into the room where he and Jehan had found such welcome refuge. It appeared to be something of a boudoir or library, for the shaft of light revealed rows of books, which lined the walls all round. There was a window at the far end of the room, and that was closely curtained, and there was no other door save the one through which the two men had entered. The fire in the large open hearth had been allowed to die down. A massive desk stood not far from the window, and there were a few chairs about and a small, iron-bound coffer. Papers littered the desk and a finely wrought candelabra hung from the ceiling.
'The room,' said Gilles lightly, 'looks as if it had been closed for the night. There is no reason why we should not await here the future course of events.' He drew one of the chairs into a comfortable position and sat down, then added: 'I do not know, of course, how long we may have to cool our heels in this place, until the writer of the mysterious epistle chooses to explain his or her commands. I am beginning to think, as you do, my friend, that the missive should have been signed with an "L" rather than with a "J". What say you?'