Then, perceiving no one, he muttered: "Mon Dieu! It is but fancy, yet why doth he tarry?" And again concealing the light, he ascended to the upper story and dropped the trap-hatch with a resounding thud.
"There's fell treachery afoot," whispered Raymond. "Dost know who it is?"
"'Tis René de Caux, of the following of the Captal de Buche, our King's trusted favourite. Wait patiently, for ere long no little advancement will be gained."
Silently the Englishmen waited, every fiercer blast of the storm causing them to imagine that the expected visitor had arrived. At last they heard the door pushed open, and a dark form made its way into the room with a confidence gained by long practice. A low whistle, like the cry of a night-bird, and the trapdoor was again removed.
"Ah, Jehan! 'Tis thou at last! Close the door ere I show a light."
"A thousand pests take the weather. This storm hath all but been my undoing."
The light of the lantern shone upon the face of the new arrival. He was a tall, slender man, with light hair and refined features, and on removing his sodden cloak a garment of slashed velvet was revealed, betokening that the wearer was a gentleman of quality. Armour he wore none, but a light sword hung from his belt, balanced by a large leather bag.
"And how fares Sir John de Vienne?"
"Strong in courage when last I saw him."
"And that was——?"