Presently I asked why he had ventured abroad on the day when the King was declared of age.
"My master was better then," he said, "and desired to learn how affairs were shaping. We heard a rumour that Condé would not be present; so I went to find out. It was a risky thing, and the sight of you frightened me."
"It need not have done; I wish my cousin no harm."
"True, monsieur, but we were not aware of that."
"Where have you hidden your master?"
"In an outhouse at La Boule d'Or. We dared not take him to the inn; he would have been discovered. I was afraid the other evening when you came with M. Beauchamp."
"Then you saw us?"
"I watched you enter, monsieur—and go away," and the rascal could not help chuckling.
Through dirty courts and fetid alleys where the sun never shone, my guide led the way, bringing me at last to the familiar Rue de Roi. My distrust had vanished by now, and I followed him unhesitatingly. Crossing the road and walking rapidly through a private passage, we reached the back of the inn. The yard was in partial darkness, but I made out an old building which communicated by a covered way with the hostelry. Lighting a candle, Pillot entered this passage and stood listening intently. No sound could be heard; all was silent as the grave.
"Too late!" he exclaimed sadly, and, heedless of me, sprang up the stairs two at a time, the flame of the candle flickering violently. I heard him turn the handle of the door, and, running up quickly, passed in with him.