“Perhaps, but I have written out the full account of all I heard, and my friends will break the seals at noon unless—”
“Unless what?” for Louis paused.
“Unless you pay me a thousand pounds.”
“I could pay that, you fool, but I know you lie.” The master’s voice was wavering and I knew he believed what he denied with so much confidence. “This tale does not take me in. It is impossible. You could not have overheard, and if you did there is nothing I would not be willing to have published.”
The dwarf looked at him in contempt. For a moment I doubted whether he really had any proof. It might all be a skilful lie to blackmail the patroon. But not so! Louis raised his finger slowly, pointing at his master. His mouth opened, but he waited maliciously before he spoke, as if he knew well the fatal result of his next word. Then he snapped out suddenly, “Jacques.”
The effect was instantaneous. With a sharp cry of rage the patroon caught up his sword. He lunged forward before either of us had a moment to think what he was doing, and passed the sharp blade clean through the body of the dwarf. Louis toppled forward across the table without uttering a sound. The glasses shattered with a crash, and the wine from the decanter trickled out and mingled with the blood which I can hear to this day, as it rattled with a sharp sound on the papers which were everywhere about. The patroon stood mopping the sweat from his brow and looking down on the body of his henchman.
“Come with me, Vincent, come with me. If what this fellow said is true, I am in a trap indeed. Perhaps the papers are in his room, perhaps he did not write them, but let us see.”
We went to Louis’s room and ransacked every corner for some sign of the papers. We sounded the floor for loose boards. We tore open the bedding. We let no nook or cranny escape our vigilance. But nothing rewarded our search.
“Well,” muttered Van Volkenberg moodily, “he must have told the truth. Someone else has the papers if they were ever written at all. Who had he for friends?” Then he swore a fearful oath, for he had thought of the Marmadukes. “If she comes against me—” He doubled his fists, but did not finish the sentence.
We went back to dispose of the body of Louis. When this was done the patroon prepared to summon the remaining members of the Red Band. I did not know what he wanted of his retainers, nor did I care. I remembered what Louis had said to me about the loose bricks by the oven and that I should look there in case of his death by violence. I resolved to do a little hunting on my own account and, sure enough, when I reached the place, I found two small packets, which I hastily concealed about me and retired to my room. One of the packets was marked “The Great Secret.” The other bore the date of that very day. I tore it open. Here is what I read: