"On the contrary," replied Douglas, "everyone would know--Bertie, my brother, your wife, all."
Again the other leered at him with so sidelong a glance, with such a snake-like look, that Douglas, remembering how Archibald had said that night that he must be mad, began to feel sure that he was, indeed, in the presence of a demoniac--a creature whose pursuit of evil had turned his brain. And again, for some reason, the young man shuddered violently as he looked at him, as he had shuddered more than once before.
"No," hissed Fordingbridge, glinting his eyes round the open space in front of the great cathedral, which, with the exception of the spot where they stood, close up by the door, was now bathed in moonlight. "No; they do not know, they will never know. They think I am still in England; that I shall not leave it."
"Indeed! Will they think so to-morrow when I tell them I have met you to-night?"
"Tell them to-morrow! To-morrow?" he whispered. "How can you do that, Douglas Sholto?"
"Very easily. They are all here."
"Here!" He almost screamed the word "here," and his eyes roved round the place as though he thought they might be hiding behind some buttress, or pillar, ready to spring out on him.
"Ay, here. One, who seeks for you ever, at the Citadel, another at the Jesuits' College, and your wife at an inn in the town."
Fordingbridge reeled back against the cathedral walls once more as he heard this unexpected disclosure--he had until now imagined that Douglas was alone in Amiens; and there he stood absolutely paralysed with apprehension. In Amiens! The very place he had selected for a refuge. In Amiens. They would know all to-morrow, all. And he would be brought face to face with Elphinston, who would slay him, he never doubted; with Archibald Sholto, who would denounce him to the Jacobites, of whom there were many in this city as well as Paris; to the Church, which he had slandered by falsely stating himself to be one of its priests. A Church which, he knew--had reason enough to know--was sufficiently powerful to resent any affront to it; a Church which--though the Inquisition had no foothold in France--could make its vengeance felt. And he remembered he had bound himself to that Church by many oaths to further the Stuart cause in England, and had ended by denouncing three of its most active partisans! No need for Elphinston to force him to fight; no need for the Jacobites to take vengeance on him for his treachery; Archibald Sholto would see that the punishment was accorded.
As he stood there, while Douglas remained regarding him, he thought it all out as well as his disordered mind would permit; remembered that but for the hated form of the man before him they would never know he was in France. And if they never knew, then he might remain in peace until things could be smoothed over in England. But could they be so smoothed? He must know that first.