"That is strange! I thought he already had callers this morning."
Gazing at me in profound astonishment, the man exclaimed, "Visitors here, monsieur? Impossible! You are the first to call."
"I must have been mistaken, then," said I, with assumed calmness, but really more perplexed than ever. Unless my eyes had deceived me, the man was not speaking truly—but why? Surely his master was at liberty to receive anyone who chose to visit him!
Then another idea struck me. If Henri was one of the two men who had entered the house, were we likely to meet? and if so, what would happen? I had done his cause much harm, and had besides made him a laughing-stock for the wits of Paris. Martin was no fighting man, and the odds against me would be at least two to one. It seemed as if I had stumbled again by accident into a hornet's nest.
While I brooded over these things the man fumbled with the door, taking so long to replace the bars that I called on him sharply to make more haste.
"I am ready, monsieur; this way," and he led me along the well-known passage, up the crazy staircase, and so to the corridor, where on my recent visit a soldier had kept guard.
Opening the door of the room in which I had first met Mazarin, the man requested me to step inside and wait a moment or two whilst his master dressed. The apartment appeared empty, but I kept my hand on my sword, and was careful to peer behind the curtain. Rather, perhaps, to my surprise no one was there; so I returned to the middle of the room and stood by the table. In truth I felt very uneasy, and wished myself safely in the street.
Five anxious minutes passed before the astrologer entered. He was attired in dressing-gown, skull-cap, and slippers, and by his face one would judge that he really had been keeping vigil all night.
"I regret to have kept you waiting," he said, with an air of apology, "but your visit is somewhat early."
"Yet it seems I am not the first to need your services this morning."