“You have come to murder me,” he cried, and again alarm overspread his countenance.
“Hoity, toity, Marquis! We do not all follow the same trade. Who talks of murder? Faugh!”
Again he took a step towards me, but again the nozzle of my pistol drove him back. To have pistoled him there and then as he deserved would have brought the household about my ears, and that would have defeated my object. To have fallen upon him and slain him with silent steel would have equally embarrassed me, as you shall understand anon.
“You and I had a rendezvous at St. Sulpice des Reaux,” I said calmly, “to which you came with a band of hired assassins. For this you deserve to be shot like the dog you are. But I have it in my heart to be generous to you,” I added in a tone of irony. “Come, take up your sword.”
“To what purpose?”
“Do you question me? Take up your sword, man, and do my bidding; thus shall you have a slender chance of life. Refuse and I pistol you without compunction. So now put on that wig and mask.”
When he obeyed me in this—“Now listen, St. Auban,” I said. “You and I are going together to that willow copse whither three months ago you lured Yvonne de Canaples for the purpose of abducting her. On that spot you and I shall presently face each other sword in hand, with none other to witness our meeting save God, in whose hands the issue lies. That is your chance; at the first sign that you meditate playing me any tricks, that chance is lost to you.” And I tapped my pistol significantly. “Now climb out through that window.”
When he had done so, I bade him stand six paces away whilst I followed, and to discourage any foolish indiscretion on his part I again showed him my pistol.
He answered me with an impatient gesture, and by the light that fell on his face I saw him sneer.
“Come on, you fool,” he snarled, “and have done threatening. I'll talk to you in the copse. And tread softly lest you arouse the sentry on the other side.”