The door which opened from the closet into the room beyond was not tightly closed, and through this opening we could make a partial survey of the room. It was empty in so far as we could see, and I was about to suggest that we make a cautious scrutiny of the remainder of it, when a sound as of stifled sobbing startled me.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“My God, do you not know what it is?” exclaimed Richelieu. “It is Charlotte,—Charlotte weeping over her coming sacrifice. Stay here, my friend,” and before I could do aught to prevent him he had opened the door, stepped through it, and closed it behind him. I heard a startled exclamation from the princess, and at the same instant another sound which sent a cold shiver down my back. Some one was ascending the spiral staircase with assured and regular tread. The footsteps paused for a moment without the door, then there came a click, a breath of air, and a smell as of a candle newly extinguished. I drew back into one corner of the closet, and as I did so this unknown person stepped into it and closed the secret door behind him.
CHAPTER XXI
WHERE HONOR WINS
I pressed more closely into my corner and held my breath in suspense, fearing lest even the beating of my heart would betray my presence. The new-comer paused for a moment to set down the lantern, and in that moment the voice of Richelieu penetrated to the closet.
“You are surprised to see me, Charlotte?” he was saying. “Did you think for an instant that I would permit you to be delivered to this fate which has been prepared for you?”
“Oh, M. le Duc!” cried the voice of the princess, broken by sobs, “I do but save you from one danger to find you braving another. You do not comprehend my father’s hatred. Go, I beseech you, before it is too late.”
“Yes, I shall go in a moment, Charlotte,” answered Richelieu, in a milder tone, “and you are going with me. At the back of the gardens there is a carriage waiting, with four of the fastest horses in the kingdom. In an hour we shall be far from Paris. Another day will find us safe in the Netherlands and free to live our lives together.”
There was a moment’s silence, and I could hear the deep, agitated breathing of the person who stood beside me. My hands began to tremble under the strain, and I clasped them behind me to keep them still. An increasing giddiness reminded me of my wound. The closet was insufferably close, and my face grew wet with perspiration as I realized my weakness.
“And whose plan is this?” asked Mlle. de Valois, at last.