Claude was about to say, with no politeness at all, that he did, and to repeat his refusal in stronger terms, when his ear caught the same sound which had revealed so much to him a few minutes earlier at the foot of the stairs. It came more faintly this time, deadened by the closed door of the staircase, but to his enlightened senses it proclaimed so clearly what it was—the echo of a cracked, shrill voice, of a laugh insane, uncanny, elfish—that he trembled lest Louis should hear it also and gain the clue. That was a thing to be avoided at all costs; and even as this occurred to him he saw the way to avoid it. Basterga and Grio were absent: if this fool could be removed, even for an hour or two, Anne would have the house to herself, and by midnight the crisis might be overpast.
"I will come with you," he said.
Louis uttered a sigh of relief. He had expected—and he had very nearly received—another answer. "Good," he said. "But he does not want me."
"Both or neither," Claude replied coolly. "For all I know 'tis an ambush."
"No, no!"
"In which event I shall see that you share it. Or it may be a scheme to draw me from here, and then if harm be done while I am away——"
"Harm? What harm?" Louis muttered.
"Any harm! If harm be done, I say, I shall then have you at hand to pay me for it. So—both or neither!"
For a moment Louis' hang-dog face—none the handsomer for the mark of the Syndic's cane—spelt refusal. Then he changed his mind. He nodded sulkily. "Very well," he said. "But it is raining, and I have no great wish to—Hush! What is that?" He raised his hand in the attitude of one listening and his eyes sought his companion's. "What is that? Did you not hear something—like a scream upstairs?"
"I hear something like a fool downstairs!" Claude retorted gruffly.