“And what is it called?” he asked. “Perhaps I already know it.”
“I do not think so, monsieur. It is called ‘Prisoner’s Chase’. If properly played, in the end the prisoner escapes.”
“Well, you are free, M. de Brancas,” said Hérault, still looking at me. “My orders were to detain you only until Richelieu was safely arrested. As he has agreed to accompany us, we need not trouble you further. I see now,” he added, “why he was so anxious to have no one else here molested.”
“Must it be, monsieur?” I cried, turning to Richelieu. “Is this the only way?”
“This is the only way,” he answered; and then, turning to Hérault, “Monsieur, will you permit me to say a word in private to my friend?”
“There will be no attempt to escape?” asked Hérault, hesitating.
“You have my word, monsieur,” said Richelieu, proudly.
“True,” and Hérault thought for a moment. “M. le Duc, I will withdraw with my men to the stairfoot. In three minutes you will descend alone and without your sword. Is it agreed?”
“It is agreed,” said Richelieu, and Hérault and his men went down the stairs.
“All this amounts to nothing, de Brancas,” said Richelieu, in a low tone. “This regency will not last a week, and so the worst that can happen to me will be a week in prison. What I fear is that Charlotte, over-estimating my danger, will be moved to make some ridiculous sacrifice for me. Of course, you cannot tell her of the conspiracy, but make her believe, if possible, that I am in no danger.”