"Oh, that is another matter," said Gabriel; "and I confess that I would not answer for him there."
"Well, then, Monseigneur," said poor Babette, turning pale, "will you be kind enough to hand him this ring? He will know from whom it comes and what it means."
"I will give it to him, Babette," said Gabriel, recalling the last evening before his squire's departure,—"I will give it to him; but the person who sends it knows, I presume, that Martin-Guerre is married."
"Married!" shrieked Babette. "Then, Monseigneur, keep the ring,—throw it away, do anything with it, rather than give it to him."
"But, Babette—"
"Thanks, Monseigneur, and adieu!" whispered the poor child.
She made her escape to the second floor, and had hardly got to her chamber and fallen upon a chair when she fainted.
Gabriel, grieved and anxious over the suspicion which then first crossed his mind, descended the staircase of the old house, deep in thought.
At the foot of the stairs he met Jean Peuquoy, who came up to him with a very mysterious air.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," said the burgher, in a low voice, "you are continually asking me why I am making ropes of such length. I cannot allow you to depart, after your admirably worded farewell to Lord Wentworth, without imparting to you the key to the riddle. By joining together with small transverse cords two long, strong ropes, as the one I am making, Monseigneur, one obtains a ladder of great length and strength. This ladder, when one is a member of the civic guard, as Pierre has been for twenty years, and I for three days, can easily be conveyed in sections and placed under the sentry-box on the platform of the Octagonal Tower. Then, some dark morning in December or January, just for curiosity's sake, we might when on sentry duty attach an end of each rope firmly to these pieces of iron when they are cemented into the battlements, and let the other ends drop into the sea, some three hundred feet below, where some hardy boatman might chance to find himself at that moment."