CHAPTER XV

THE HAND OF BABETTE

I lay for a time where I had been flung, overwhelmed by the disaster. Then a frenzy came on me, and, but for the gag in my mouth, I could have screamed out curses on my folly in allowing myself to be trapped like a wild cat. Now that I think of it, in the madness of those moments I did not pray to the God who had so often and so repeatedly helped me; yet in His mercy and goodness I was freed from my straits, as will be shown hereafter.

In the meantime I was so securely bound that it was all but impossible to move, and the bandage over my eyes prevented me from seeing anything. I writhed and twisted like a serpent on the wet flags where I lay, and in the violence of my struggles gradually moved the bandages, so that my eyes were at last set free, and then, exhausted by my efforts and half-choked by the gag, I became still once more, and looked around me. For all I could see I might have been as before--I was in blank, absolute darkness. Into the void I peered, but could make out nothing, though I could hear my own laboured breathing, and the melancholy drip, drip of water as it oozed from above me and fell in sullen drops on the slime below.

As I strained into the velvet black of the darkness, it came to me--some fiend must have whispered it--that I was blind. My mind almost ceased to work at the thought, and I remained in a kind of torpor, trying in a weak manner to mentally count the drops of water by the dull splashing sound they made in falling. Ages seemed to pass as I lay there, and the first sense of coming to myself was the thought of Claude, whom I had lost, and the quick agony of this made my other sufferings seem as nothing. There is a misery that words, at least such words as I am master of, cannot picture, and I will therefore say no more of this.

A little thing, however, now happened, and but for this I might have lain where I was until I died, so entirely impressed was I with the idea that I was sightless. In utter weariness I turned my head on one side and saw two small beads of fire twinkling about a yard or so from me. They were as small as the far-away stars, and they stared at me fixedly. 'This is some deception of the mind,' I thought to myself, when suddenly another pair of fiery eyes appeared; then there was a slight shuffling, and all was still. But it was the saving of me. Sight and hearing could not both deceive. I knew what they were, and I knew, too, that I was not blind. From that moment I began to regain possession of my faculties and to think of means of escape. In my vest pocket was a small clasp knife. If I could but get at that I could free myself from my bonds. That, at any rate, had to be the first step. I began to slowly move my arms up and down with a view to loosening the cords that bound me, but, after some time spent in this exercise, realised the fact that the ropes might cut through me, but that they would not loosen. Then it struck me, in my eagerness to be free, that I might get at the knots with my teeth, and by a mighty effort I raised myself to a sitting posture--only to remember that I was gagged, and that it was of no avail to think of this plan. There are those who will smile, perhaps, if their eyes meet this, and put me down in their estimation for a fool for my forgetfulness. That may or may not be, but I have written down exactly what happened.

Although the new position I had attained did not in any way advance me towards freedom, yet it gave me a sense of personal relief. I was able to raise my knees a little, and sitting down thus, with my body thrown a little forward, to ease the strain of the cords, I began to think and go over in my mind the whole scene of the tragedy from the beginning to its bitter end. I had no doubt as to the personality of Babette. I was not likely to forget her voice. I had heard it under circumstances that ought to have stamped it on my memory for all time, and if I had the faintest doubts on the matter, they were set at rest by the fact that she was so well known to de Gomeron--she probably had been a camp-follower on our side--and also by the still more damning fact that her house was known as the Toison d'Or. The name had been distinctly mentioned by her, and its meaning was clear to me when I thought of the dreadful scene over de Leyva's body.

As for de Gomeron, I knew him well enough to understand his game. The whole affair, as far as he was concerned, was a sudden and rapid resolve--that was clear. I argued it out in this way to myself, and, as I went on thinking, it was almost as if someone was reading out a statement of the case to me. It was evident that the free-lance was to the last moment in hopes that the King would yield to Biron's intercession on his behalf. When that was refused he may have had some idea of gaining his end by force, but was compelled to hurry his _coup_ by the knowledge that he had obtained from his confederate or spy, Ravaillac.

It had worked out well enough for him. My disappearance, my dead horse--poor Couronne!--all these would point to me as the author of the abduction, and give de Gomeron the time he wanted to perfect his plans. The man I had run through would never tell tales, and, so far, the game lay in the Camarguer's hands.

And then about Madame. As I became calmer I saw that for his own sake de Gomeron would take care that her life was safe--at any rate for the present, and whilst there was this contingency there was hope for her, if none for me, as I felt sure that, what with the King and Madame's relatives of the Tremouille on one hand, and Sully and de Belin on the other, things would go hard, sooner or later, with de Gomeron, whatever happened to me.

By the time my thoughts had reached this point I was myself again, and the certainty with which I was possessed that Claude was in no immediate danger of her life gave me strength to cast about for my own liberation as the first step towards freeing her.

But my despair almost returned as I thought and thought, until my brain seemed on fire, without my efforts bringing me a ray of hope. I shuddered as I reflected that it was part of de Gomeron's scheme to let me die here. It could easily be done, and a few bricks against the wall would remove all traces of the living grave of d'Auriac. In my mental excitement I seemed to be able to project my soul outside my prison, and to see and hear all that my enemy was plotting.

I do not for a moment say I was right in every detail, but events showed that I was not far wrong; and it is a wonder to me that the learned men of our day have not dealt with this question of the mind, though, to be sure, it savours no little of those secrets which the Almighty in His wisdom has concealed from us, an inquiry into which is perhaps a sin--perhaps in some future time these things may be disclosed to us! Whether I am right or wrong, I know not. I have, however, set down faithfully what passed through my mind in those hours of agony.

Was I never to see the light again? Never to hear another human voice? Was I to come to my death in a long-drawn-out agony? Dear God, then, in mercy, strike me dead! So I prayed in my utter desolation; but death did not come, though its mantle of darkness was around me.

Hour after hour passed. I shifted my position, and, strange to say, slept. How long I slept I know not; but I woke stinging with pain, and found this was due to my being bound as I was, and in a little the agony became almost insupportable; and I was on the verge of going into a delirium, only righting my failing senses by a mighty effort of will.

I had lost all count of the time, but guessed it was advanced in the day by this; and my eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that I could manage to see the faint outlines of the cell in which I was imprisoned. I tried to make out its extent with an idle and useless curiosity, and then, giving it up and utterly hopeless, leaned my head on my upraised knees, and sat thus waiting for the end.

I longed for death to come now--it would be a happy release from my pain.

Suddenly there came a grating noise as the bolts outside were moved. Then the door of the cell swung open with a groaning, and there was a blinding flash of light that, for the time being, deprived me of the powers of sight, though, with a natural instinct, I shut my eyes to the flash as it came.

Then I heard de Gomeron's voice saying, 'Remove the gag--I have something to ask Monsieur.'

As I felt two cold, hard hands fumbling with the knots of the gag, I managed to open my eyes, though the light still pained me, and saw the tall figure of the free-lance, his drawn sword in his hand, standing in the open doorway, and kneeling beside me was Babette. The hag caught the loathing in my glance, and laughed to herself as she wrenched at the knots, and de Gomeron, who was evidently in no mood to delay, hurried her efforts with a sharp 'Quick!'

'It is done,' she answered, and rose to her feet, swinging the silken bands of the gag she held in her hand.

'Then have the goodness to step back whilst Monsieur d'Auriac and I discuss the position.'

Babette did as she was bidden, muttering something, and de Gomeron, advancing a pace, addressed me--

'Monsieur, I have come to make you an offer, and I will not waste words. I am playing to win a desperate game, and I shall not hesitate to play any card to win. My offer is this. I ask you to sign a formal document, which I shall bring to you, holding me guiltless of any design against either you or Madame de la Bidache. In return I will set you free in ten days after you sign this paper. During that time you must consider yourself my prisoner; but you will be better lodged than now. Should you refuse to accept this offer, there is nothing left for me but to leave you here to die.'

He spoke in slow, measured accents, and the vault of the roof above me gave back the man's words in a solemn echo. The light of the lantern stretched in a long yellow shaft up the spiral stairway beyond the door, and, half in this light and half in shadow, stood the witch-like figure of Babette, leaning a little forward as if striving to catch each word that was spoken.

In the silence that followed the free-lance's speech I could almost hear the blood throbbing in my temples; and for the moment I was deprived of all power of words. It was not from fear, nor from any idea of accepting the offer, but a thought had come to my mind. I would oppose craft with craft, and meet the fox in the skin of a fox.

'Give me twenty-four hours to decide,' I answered, 'and free me from these cords. I cannot think for the pain of them.'

'_Pardieu!_' he laughed. 'The knots have been well tied; but twenty-four hours is a long time.'

'Yet you are willing to accommodate me for ten days, better lodged. _Ventrebleu!_ M. de Gomeron! Do you think I can scratch my way out of this?'

He did not answer me, but stood for a while biting at the ends of his thick moustache. Then he suddenly called to Babette, 'Cut the cords.'

She came forward and obeyed. Words cannot convey the sensation of relief as the cords fell from me, but for the time being so numbed was I that I was powerless to move.

'You have your desire, monsieur,' said de Gomeron, 'and I await your decision. It will save me trouble if you inform Babette whether you agree or not. In the former event we shall have the pleasure of meeting again; in the latter case I take the opportunity of wishing you as happy a time as a man may have--in the future life. In the meantime I will see that some refreshments are sent to you. _Adieu!_'

He turned and stepped out of the cell and stood for a moment whilst Babette picked up the lantern and followed him.

'Monsieur will not want the light to aid him to think,' she laughed, and then the door was shut. I heard the sullen clank of the chain, the turning of the great keys, and I was alone and in darkness once more.

Dark it may have been, but, thank God! I was no longer like a trussed fowl, and betook myself to rubbing my numbed limbs until finally the chilled blood was warmed and I was able to stand, and then, in a little, I gained strength to grope my way backwards and forwards in the cell as an exercise. No thought of ever agreeing to de Gomeron's terms ever crossed me. I had, however, resolved to make a dash for freedom when he came to me again. I should pretend to agree, and then win or lose all in the rush. Anyway, I would not die here like a rat in a trap. I almost chuckled to myself as I thought I was in a fair way to outwit the free-lance. He was a fool after all, though, at the same time, I could not but admit that his move to get me to admit his innocence was a skilful one. Still, it was a plot that might overreach itself. My captors had eased me of my belt, which was so well stuffed with pistoles. They had not, however, had time or opportunity to search me further, and had left my clasp-knife, which lay in my pocket, as I have said, together with a dozen or so of gold pieces I had kept there to be at hand. I pulled out the knife and, opening it, ran my fingers along the blade. It was three inches or so in length, but sharp as a razor, and with it one might inflict an ugly wound in a struggle. I mapped out my plan mentally. When de Gomeron came again I should fell him as he entered, arm myself, if possible, by snatching his sword, and then cut my way out or be cut down. I had no doubt that I might be able to effect the first part of the programme. In those days I was as strong as a bull, and there were few men, especially if they were unprepared, who could have stood a blow from me. It was in