'This will close the trap, methinks, on our wily fox.'
'So long as he doth tumble into it,' remarked de Lalain dryly.
'He will! He will! You may be sure of that! Imagine him a few hours hence, ready for his journey and finding every gate closed against him and the town garrison afoot. I have warned de Landas of what was in the wind, and given him an outline of my plans for to-morrow. I can safely trust him to see that no one leaves the city within the next four and twenty hours, for I have made him personally accountable to me if any suspected person should effect an escape. So our fine Monsieur will fume and rage, and demand to see Monseigneur the governor. The latter, weary and sick, will have long ago retired to bed. In the morning he will still be sick and unable to attend to business, until past ten o'clock, when quite unexpectedly he will have given his exalted guest the slip and already be engaged on important matters at the Town Hall. Thither Monsieur will repair at once—you may take your oath on that—fretting to receive his safe-conduct and be out of the city ere another twenty-four hours go by. In the meanwhile——'
'You will have spoken with Madame Jacqueline,' broke in de Lalain eagerly. 'The Magistrate and the Provosts will have issued their proclamations, the city will be beflagged and the people assembled on the Grand' Place, eager to see Madame and her royal betrothed. What a programme, my good d'Inchy!' he concluded with unstinted enthusiasm. 'And how wisely conceived! Of a truth, you have enchained our fox. He cannot now slip out of our sight.'
When the two old cronies finally took leave of one another, they had prepared everything for their next day's box of surprise. A surprise it would be for everybody, and Monseigneur d'Inchy could indeed congratulate himself on the happy cannon-shot which he would fire off on the morrow, and which would wake this sad and dormant city from its weary somnolence. The alliance with the Royal House of France would prove a splendid stimulus for the waning courage of the people, whilst a fickle Valois Prince would at the same time learn that it is not easy to play fast and loose with a nation that was ruled by such diplomatic and determined men as were M. le Comte de Lalain and Monseigneur d'Inchy, governor of Cambray.
III
As for de Landas, he probably spent that evening some of the happiest hours which he had experienced for some time. It seemed indeed as if Fate, having buffeted him about so unmercifully these past few weeks, was determined to compensate him for everything that he had suffered.
When he received Monseigneur's letter, he was still fresh from his stormy interview with Jacqueline, still fresh from the discovery which he had made of at any rate a part of his rival's secret. As to what use he would make of this discovery, he had not yet made up his mind: his dark, vengeful soul was for the nonce consumed with rage at thought of seeing Jacqueline happy in the love of the man whom he so cordially hated. In the ordinary course of events, he would have been perfectly content to see her married—for political reasons, lovelessly or even unhappily—to any man who was influential enough to win her at the hands of her ambitious guardian. But to think of her bestowing her love and her kisses on another was wont to drive de Landas to the verge of mania. He did not love Jacqueline de Broyart. He had told her so, and he knew that her fortune would never be his. But he had always desired her, and did so still; and such are the tortuous ways of a depraved heart, that he would have been content to lose her only if he knew that she would be unhappy.
Now, suddenly, Fate had changed everything. Instead of impotent rage and futile scheming, Monseigneur's orders had placed in his hands the very weapon which he needed to consummate that revenge of which he dreamed.
'See to it, My dear de Landas,' Monseigneur had written, 'that for the next four and twenty Hours a full Company of the Town garrison is afoot, and that no one leave this City on any pretext whatsoever. I have prepared a special pageant for the People—a day of Festivity, wherein I will make a joyful Announcement to them from the Balcony of the Town Hall. This announcement has a direct bearing not only on the Future of our sorely-stricken Province, but also on that of her fairest Daughter. Both these great Issues are inextricably bound together, and to-morrow will see them ratified before our assembled people. So, see to it, My dear de Landas, that the Garrison under your Command do keep Order in the Town, so that there should be no disturbance likely to mar the solemnity of the occasion. There are always Malcontents in every Community and dissentients to every measure of public good. But I know that You at least have always been at one with Me in earnest desire to see our beloved country placed under the protection of our mighty neighbour, and that You will therefore rejoice with Me that that desire will at last be fulfilled. Because of Your unswerving loyalty to me and to Our cause, You shall be the first to know that the mysterious stranger whom We have so long harboured within Our gates and who chose to be known to Us all as the Prince de Froidmont, is none other than Monsieur duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, Brother of His Majesty the King of France, who came to Cambray for the express purpose of wooing Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, Our Ward, to be his Wife. That he has succeeded in winning her promise is the announcement which I desire to make to our People to-morrow. I also will give them the assurance that, in consequence of this alliance with the royal House of Valois, We may reckon on the full might and support of France to deliver Us from Our enemies.'