"Bravo!" I exclaimed, "the mischief may be stamped out yet. I wonder if the other quarters are quiet," and, buckling on my sword, I crossed the room just as a man in dishevelled dress rushed panting up the stairs.
I gazed at my unexpected visitor in amazement and rubbed my eyes. Were they playing me false? No! It was Pillot sure enough, and he was gasping for breath. Why had he come to me?
"Just in time, monsieur," he stammered as he leaned against the wall to recover.
"What is it?" I exclaimed. "What do you want? Quick, I am in a hurry."
"Wait, monsieur. Listen; you must! I ran all the way to the Rue Crillon, but you were not there."
"The Rue Crillon?" I interrupted, thinking of Madame Coutance and Marie. "Is anything the matter there? Are the ladies in danger?"
"No, no," he answered impatiently. "No one will harm them. They are as safe as at Aunay. It is of your cousin. He calls for you, monsieur; he is dying—and alone! Come with me, monsieur, quick! I must return at once; he may be dead!"
"A truce to this mummery," I said sternly. "What new trick is this? Do you imagine I am to be trapped a second time? My cousin is dead and buried; the Abbé himself told me."
Pillot gazed at me in blank despair. His face was white, his lips twitched nervously, his words came with a sob.
"It is false, monsieur, false. I deceived the Abbé as I deceived all for my master's sake. I spread about the story of his death; I tricked De Retz because he could not be trusted. To save his own life he would have thrown your cousin to the wolves. It is each for himself, nowadays, monsieur. I wormed out their plots: they could not deceive Pillot. De Retz is a clever schemer, but the biggest rogues make mistakes. He believed my tale, and so did Condé. Only one man besides myself and M. de Lalande knew the truth, and I was obliged to trust him. As to your cousin I have guarded him against all comers; I have nursed him day and night; I have tricked the soldiers, but now the end is come. Prince and priest are welcome to the secret now."