"Lies, all damnable lies," said La Mothe, choking. "Who is the liar? You won't tell me? But I must know; I must and shall. Not in the Château, but at its very door? At its door? Jean Saxe! Is it Jean Saxe, Uncle, is it Jean Saxe? It is! it is! Jean Saxe the—the—— Villon, you said there was a traitor to the Dauphin in Amboise, was that Jean Saxe? A traitor to the Dauphin, a liar to the King; who else could it be but Saxe? It was Jean Saxe who gave Molembrais his chance ten days ago, Jean Saxe who knew of the play in the Burnt Mill to-day, Mademoiselle told him——"
"More proof," said Commines. "She and Jean Saxe are in collusion."
"Collusion to kidnap the Dauphin? Mademoiselle de Vesc and Jean Saxe in league against the boy? Uncle, you are mad and your proof proves too much. If all the world were one Jean Saxe I would believe Ursula de Vesc's No! against him."
"Good boy," repeated Villon, speaking, as it were, to the world at large. "The very first time I saw him I said he was the image of myself. Monsieur d'Argenton, what is Jean Saxe's story?"
"That by Mademoiselle de Vesc's directions Hugues sounded him on behalf of the Dauphin, but vaguely at first. There was great discontent, said Hugues, and greater fear. The death of de Molembrais, guaranteed though he was by a safe-conduct, had set France asking who was secure if once the King had determined on his destruction. Even loyalty was no safeguard. In the King's sick suspicion his most faithful servants might be the first to suffer. Not a day passed but there was a hanging, and de Molembrais was a warning to both high and low. For a man to keep his own life at all cost was no murder."
"True," said Villon. "Toute beste garde sa pel! Yes, monsieur?"
"That was the gist of it; vague as you see, but significant. Then, two days ago, Hugues spoke a second time, urging Saxe to a decision. If the Dauphin were king, all France would breathe freely, all France would say, Thank God! The generous nature of the boy was well known. There would be rewards. Mademoiselle de Vesc had authorized him to promise——"
But La Mothe could control himself no longer. Through Commines' indictment, coldly, almost phlegmatically delivered, he stood motionless and silent, his hands clenched, every muscle tense with restraint. It was the fighting attitude, the attitude of a man who waits in the dark for a blow he knows not whence, but a blow which will surely come. Now the restraint snapped.
"Villon, for God's sake, do you believe this lie?"
It was an exceeding bitter cry, and the pain of it pierced through even Commines' armour of calmness. But Villon, though he shivered a little, only shook his head. His face, dimly seen, was full of a grave concern.