"He came this morning, monsieur, and, as far as I know, goes to-morrow. He is alone, and seems poorly provided with money—and this is all I know."
There was nothing further to be done, though I had learned some things of value. As the night was warm I stepped out into the garden. It was dark, and the stars were out. High above me a light was burning faintly in a dormer window, on one side of which there was a wooden gallery overlooking the garden, and on this two figures were standing. It was too dark to see; but one was a woman, I was sure, and I was sure, too, it was mademoiselle.
For a moment I was tempted to creep beneath the balcony and—— But I put the thought aside, with a curse at myself, and turning went brooding down the garden, wondering how all this would end for me. Enough! I would do my duty—place her in the Queen's hands—and then see what Italy could do for Orrain.
A step on the gravel path, and a dark figure came face to face with me.
It was Capus, the oldest and most trusty of my troopers.
"I take the first watch, monsieur," he whispered, and passed on.
Up and down I paced for a little, and at last I heard mademoiselle's voice. She had come down, and I went back into the house.
CHAPTER XVI
THE TWELVE ROSE PETALS
Whether it were the effect of the candlelight, or whether it were due to the exertion of the day, I know not, but it seemed to me as I entered the room that mademoiselle looked pale and worn, and there was a reserve and constraint in her manner that had been absent before. I made some vapid remark about the warmth of the weather, hoping it had not added to her fatigue, to which she answered that she was tired, but that a night's rest would, doubtless, see her as well as ever by morning. The landlord at this moment announcing supper as served we went to table. At first my companion played with her food, but, yielding to my pressure, began to eat, and in a little the colour came back to her cheeks, the brightness returned to her eyes, and the coldness in her manner wore off. The landlord himself personally attended to us, and I observed that, whilst his manner towards mademoiselle was deferential and respectful in the extreme, his tone towards me was that of sulky obedience. This was so different from my first reception that, with my suspicions already aroused, it was impossible for me not to see it, and so I took the chance of a shot in the dark, saying:
"We have seen nothing of our fellow-guest, mademoiselle. It seems that, like the mole, he dislikes light. I have been thinking that, perhaps, it would be well to unearth him."