To this Castelroux made no difficulty.
“Why, yes,” said he, and he produced it. “I crave your pardon for not having done the thing of my own accord. What can the Keeper of the Seals want with that picture?”
I thanked him, and pocketed the locket.
“Poor lady!” he sighed, a note of compassion in his voice. “By my soul, Monsieur de Lesperon, fine work this for soldiers, is it not? Diable! It is enough to turn a gentleman's stomach sour for life, and make him go hide himself from the eyes of honest men. Had I known that soldiering meant such business, I had thought twice before I adopted it as a career for a man of honour. I had remained in Gascony and tilled the earth sooner than have lent myself to this!”
“My good young friend,” I laughed, “what you do, you do in the King's name.”
“So does every tipstaff,” he answered impatiently, his moustaches bristling as the result of the scornful twist he gave his lips. “To think that I should have a hand in bringing tears to the eyes of that sweet lady! Quelle besogne! Bon Dieu, quelle besogne!”
I laughed at the distress vented in that whimsical Gascon tongue of his, whereupon he eyed me in a wonder that was tempered with admiration. For to his brave soul a gentleman so stoical as to laugh under such parlous circumstances was very properly a gentleman to be admired.
CHAPTER X. THE RISEN DEAD
It was close upon ten o'clock as we rode into the yard of the imposing Hotel de la Couronne at Grenade.