But my master waved him to silence. His face was very stern and his voice cold as steel when he spoke again.
“You make grave charges, M. de Marsan,” he said; “so grave that either your head or another’s will fall. Do you know the contents of this message?”
“I do, Monsieur,” I answered, and I saw d’Aurilly go white again. “I have been trying to tell it you. I learned it by rote that I might repeat it in case I was intercepted and so compelled to destroy it. I had not foreseen it would be stolen from me at my journey’s end.”
“Well, repeat it then, man!” he cried, moving in his seat uneasily. “Out with it!”
“‘M. le Duc de Roquefort,’” I repeated, “‘has learned of the presence of Madame la Comtesse at the Château de Cadillac, together with Mademoiselle, her daughter. He has learned also that not above thirty men can be mustered to defend the place. He designs to carry it by surprise and to take prisoner Madame and Mademoiselle, confident that with them as hostages he can secure certain concessions from M. le Comte. There is need of haste!’”
I could hear the crowd behind me breathing hard. A murmur of rage and astonishment ran from mouth to mouth, and I caught the rattle of a hundred scabbards as hand fell to hilt. M. le Comte was trembling with emotion.
“And the signature!” he cried, bending down from his chair till his eyes glared into mine. “The signature!”
“I know nothing of the signature,” I said. “It was not given to me.”
“But whence came the message? Prove to me that it is genuine—that it may be believed!”
“M. le Comte,” I said, as calmly as I could, for the blood was beginning to sing in my ears, “permit me to tell my story. Three nights ago a stranger rode up to Marsan. He bore the message which I have just repeated. My father, who recognized the messenger by some secret sign which I know nothing of, ordered out his horse at once that he himself might bring it to Montauban. But my father is growing old, as you know, Monsieur; besides, in cold, wet weather his wounds trouble him greatly. I begged that I might come in his stead. I was eager to be of service to our master—to prove to him my loyalty and address. At last my father yielded. I should have his horse. The stranger gave me the paper sealed. He repeated to me its contents—three, four times, until I knew them word for word. Then he sprang to horse and disappeared in the night. Five minutes later I was on the road to Montauban. By noon of the next day I had reached the Losse, and here I was compelled to stop to rest my horse. Evening saw me en route again. At midnight I reached Comdan; dawn found me at Lestoure. An hour’s rest, and I pressed on. At noon I had reached the Garonne. I forded it, and thought soon to reach Montauban, when, of a sudden, my horse fell lame. He grew worse at every step, until he was no longer able to proceed. There was no house in sight, so I left him by the roadside and hastened on afoot. As evening came I entered Montauban from the west.”