Æsop spoke, contemptuously: "Peyrolles is a bungler. Leave it to me. I will find Lagardere for you and deal with him as he deserves before an hour has passed."
Gonzague caught at his words eagerly. "You promise?"
Æsop answered, proudly: "On the word of a hunchback. Before two o’clock I will bring you the news you wish for."
Gonzague gave a cry of triumph. "Then ask and have your own reward." Then he turned and hurriedly left the gardens, his breast swelled with exultation. When he was out of sight, the hunchback whistled softly, and Cocardasse and Passepoil came out of the shadow of the trees. The lights were now rapidly dying out, and the gardens lay in darkness checkered by the moonlight.
Lagardere turned to his friends. "She is in Gonzague’s palace. We must rescue her at once."
Passepoil appealed to him, pathetically: "Can you ever forgive us?"
"Yes," Lagardere answered—"yes, on one condition. There is a snake in this garden. Kill him for me."
Cocardasse gave a grin of appreciation. "Peyrolles it is."
Even as he spoke there was a tramp of feet and a flare of light in a side alley, and Peyrolles came towards them followed by half a dozen men, each of whom carried a torch in his left hand and a naked sword in his right. Peyrolles came towards the hunchback.
"Well, Æsop, we cannot find him anywhere."