“Consider your debt paid, and I thank you; but we fear him not.”
“Ah, messire! He is bad, bad, and I dread him.”
“But we do not, and we will care for ourselves,” and now, seeing that the man would talk for ever, and being unwilling to exchange further confidences, I raised my voice, saying, “Maître Pechaud, for I believe that is your name, it grows late——”
“And Messire de Vibrac would retire. Pardon my chattering. I will but show the way to the chamber.”
“Thanks! Yet stay! On second thoughts I will not go now. I have some matters to think upon. But let me not detain you.”
“Messire.”
“Let it be as I have said, Maître Pechaud. For me it is not yet night,” and I lowered my voice once more, saying, “it would perhaps be ill, if you and I were seen gossiping together.”
“Messire is right. The chamber is on the third story in the beacon tower, and the stairway in the hall leads straight to it. It cannot be missed. The flask is nearly full, I think.”
“Yes, thanks. Good-night!”
“Good-night, messire!” and he retired, stopping but for a moment to give a respectful greeting to the surly stranger, who made no reply, but sat like a stone, his square shoulders and broad back turned toward us.