“Will you wear this watch?” she said; “I am fearful of losing it, for the chain has broken and I value it; it belonged to my mother. I pray you keep it for me until to-morrow.”
Péron took it with surprise; he could not refuse, though he was suspicious of her motive. He fastened it on a chain that he wore and thrust it into the bosom of his doublet, not without misgivings. The next moment they had entered the gates and he drew rein to make some inquiries for the house he sought. She heard him and laughed.
“I can lead you, monsieur,” she said, and touched her horse with her whip.
Péron followed, afraid to give her a chance to outride him; but as they came near the Golden Pigeon, he caught sight of a tall house in the distance and knew it to be their destination. To reach it without passing the public house was easy, and Péron had no desire to attract notice; he laid his hand on her horse’s rein.
“Not so fast, mademoiselle,” he said; “we can turn here and avoid the inn.”
She shook her bridle free. “I will go my way here, M. de Calvisson,” she replied haughtily; “this is not Ruel!” and she rode straight on in full view of the loungers in the court of the Golden Pigeon. Péron urged his horse to keep abreast of hers, but all the while he kept a sharp lookout for possible signals; but he could observe nothing unusual, and the tavern seemed less crowded than he had seen it on previous occasions. Beyond the inn they turned down a narrow lane, mademoiselle still leading, and came at last to a high, narrow house which wore a black and forbidding aspect. The men with Choin were provided with torches which they lighted now with difficulty in the rising wind, and by their flaring light Péron saw the rude stone figure over the door which gave the house its name; but its appearance was so forbidding that he remained, for a few moments, motionless in his saddle. It seemed a poor place at which to invite a delicately reared young woman to dismount on a cold and gloomy night, and for such a cause.
CHAPTER XV
THE SIGNAL
CHOIN had been too well instructed by Péron to express any surprise at finding the door of the tall house unfastened, and he and one of his men entered, and lighted some tapers they had brought with them, in two of the lower rooms. But before he assisted mademoiselle to dismount, Péron went into the house also, and finding his way to the stairs, began the ascent; he could not be satisfied until he knew whether Richelieu’s men were there or not. On this point, however, he was soon reassured, for he had scarcely taken three steps up before he was softly challenged, and giving the cardinal’s watchword, received the reply. He found five of monsignor’s picked men sitting cross-legged on the floor, around a rushlight, playing cards with perfect nonchalance. The tightly shuttered windows hid this faint illumination from the outside, and the soldiers played piquet in such absolute silence that their presence was not easily detected even by any one on the lower floor. Péron only stayed long enough to exchange a few words with the leader, a quiet man of middle age, who understood his business. Neither he nor Péron had any distinct idea of how large a party might be expected to follow the appearance of Mademoiselle de Nançay; but the advantage was with those in the house, and it seemed that they might be equal to twice their numbers. After a brief exchange of views on the best means of securing a large body of prisoners, Péron quietly descended the stairs once more and went out to assist mademoiselle to dismount. But he found that she and her woman were already standing on the step, a broad, flat stone at the entrance, and she was in no very good humor at being compelled to wait in the cold. He apologized for the delay and invited her to enter the room at the rear, a small one, which he had selected as being near enough to the stairs for him to be able to get her to a place of safety in the event of a fight. But he forgot her wayward temper; she would have none of the back room.
“I should die here!” she announced, shivering at the chill and the bleak aspect of the place, for the house was only partially furnished, and that with the plainest of furniture; “I will go into the front room; there I can have a fire, and at least two tapers.”
“But, mademoiselle,” remonstrated Péron, “I chose this room for serious reasons. I—”