“And the answer—any?”
The man drew from his pocket a tablet, and handed it to me. I passed it on to Jean, who attempted to read it, but in vain.
“Diable! He may have written this with the point of his dagger. Can you make it out?”
We did, with some difficulty, and the words of the note, written in a huge, sprawling hand, ran as follows:
Welcome. Sancerre bids me say he expects you and de Vibrac to join us at supper at seven. Come.
CIPIERRE.
“The door is opening,” I said, with a forced gayety; “we must go.”
“And it wants but a half-hour,” answered Jean, as he pointed to the clock.
CHAPTER XII
“GENTLEMEN! I AM WITH YOU”
As the last trembling notes of the vesper bells died away, the gates of Cipierre’s house opened, and Marcilly and myself, accompanied by one of the Swiss, rode out into the square. We had judged it wise to take a man in Cipierre’s colors with us, as, in case of any accident, the fact of our being accompanied by one of the guards of the governor of Orleans might prove of advantage. Marcilly had resumed his mask. This now would not attract the attention it had done in full day, for it was a common enough custom to wear such a thing after sunset, as a protection against the inclemency of the night air.