“Pierrot is no such fool,” I said, smiling, “Touchet might blunder, but not the other old fox.”
Nevertheless, we sat there above an hour in some suspense, and then Pierrot came to the door. His manner was perfect.
“M. le Maréchal,” he cried, “shall I alarm the guard? The prisoner has escaped!”
“How and when?” I exclaimed sharply, playing my part; but M. de Lambert’s honest face flamed.
“Through the window, monsieur,” said Pierrot; “the shutters are broken open. He must have been gone some time, for Touchet relieved me at the door, and says he had heard no noise since he was there.”
“Then pursuit is useless,” I said calmly; “you may secure the house and retire, Pierrot. We must avoid the west room as a prison; see that the shutters are barred.”
“Very well, your Excellency,” he said, and moved away with his usual unruffled countenance.
M. Guillaume drew a breath of relief, and I laughed.
“Not such a dullard as we thought,” I said, “and we have escaped more easily than I hoped.”
“What will become of the Polish envoy?” he asked after a moment.