CHAPTER XV

To reach the stables which were at the back of the Krone without passing through the kitchen (and it would have been madness for Humphrey to attempt to do so unnoticed, since the scullions and cook-maids were, he imagined, finishing their tasks for the night, while the drawers and servers were idling about and, probably, in some cases, emptying down their throats the heel-taps of various flasks and bottles), it was necessary to proceed to the end of the street, some houses off. Then, a turn to the left had to be made beneath the ramparts between the river and the city proper, and, next, still another to the left to bring Humphrey to the rear of the inn and the stables themselves.

This he knew well enough, as, in the morning, he had visited those stables to see the soldiers of the Duc de Lorraine who had escorted the Duchess from Nancy set out upon their journey back. And, good cavalier as he was, he had more than once in the past twenty-four hours gone to them to see that all was well with "Soupir" and that she was properly fed and groomed and attended to.

He strolled on, therefore, in an easy manner towards where the mare was, assuming the air of one who, after his supper, might be sauntering about by the side of the river ere seeking his bed, while inhaling the soft, warm southern breeze of the night. To appear well in keeping with such a person--one who might be a traveller taking his ease, or one on the road to or from France or, across the river, to the German States--he also went on to the bridge and gazed idly into the turbulent waters rushing beneath, and so walked across to Klein Basel, all with the desire to kill time.

"For," said Humphrey to himself, "I must be neither too soon nor too late. If I go in too early I may come against La Truaumont or his myrmidons seeking to know if all is well with the animals, which I desire not to do. While, if I tarry too long I may find the door fast for the night, whereby 'Soupir' and I cannot come at each other."

Consequently, he made no movement for still some little time, nor until all the clocks were once more competing hotly with each other as to which should be the first or the last to strike the hour. And the hour which they were striking was eleven.

"Almost I might venture," Humphrey said to himself now. "The band of which it is supposed I shall form one," and he smiled at his thoughts, "sets out early to-morrow for Geneva and Martigny. La Truaumont will have given his commands by now since he sees to all. Fleur de Mai and Boisfleury are deep in their cups or gone by this time to their beds. The rest, the horsekeepers, the stablemen, do not count at all. I stand as high with the Duchess as does the captain; I may do what I please." Upon which he rose from his seat on a bench across the river and made his way back and towards where his mare was.

Returning to the bottom of that old street which leads down to the Rhine from the city above, it seemed to Humphrey that he heard, either ahead of, or behind, him, the ring of spurs upon the stones as well as the tramp of heavily booted feet: and he heard, or thought he heard, the well-known click-clack of the point of a rapier sheath against those stones.

"Humph!" he said to himself. "One of the watch perhaps, or some traveller."

He, however, thought little more of this beyond observing that the sound of those heavy boots and spurs, and that tap of a rapier, were becoming fainter, when, suddenly, upon his ears there fell the words: "Excellency, I will tell him. Be sure of me, Prince."

"The voice of Fleur de Mai!" Humphrey exclaimed. "And 'Excellency!' 'Prince!' Foregad! whom should he know here--or anywhere for the matter of that!--to whom such terms apply? And in this Republic where there are no Excellencies or Princes."

As he so thought, though heedlessly enough, since to him who, both in London and Paris, had mixed always with the highest and noblest, such things counted for little, it seemed that either those footsteps were returning towards where he was now, or else that they were the footsteps of some man similarly attired and accoutred who had passed the other.

"Perhaps," he mused, "Fleur de Mai is coming this way after greeting his acquaintance the 'Prince'. It may be so. And to-morrow the vagabond will boast of his friend, his close and intimate friend the Prince of this or that, whose acquaintance he has, in truth, only made to-night in some other hostelry than ours."

Suddenly, however, as thus he laughed at the bravo's probable braggadocio, the fellow himself loomed up large before him.

"'Tis Fleur de Mai, as I thought!" he exclaimed aloud. "I knew there was but one such rich and unctuous voice in all the wide world." After which he laughed, while adding, "And the friend of Princes."

"'Tis very true," the other answered. "Ay, the friend of many princes. Yet 'twould be best for you, my cock o' the walk, if you too were thinking of the princes whom you know. Here is De Beaurepaire come post-haste to Basle."

"De Beaurepaire here!" Humphrey exclaimed.

"Ay, and seeking for you everywhere. In my lady's chamber, beating on your door and cursing you loudly for being a seek-your-bed; making poursuivants of us to ferret you out, while you, cadédis! are strolling about the streets making odes to the moon, I do suppose, or dreaming of the fair Jacquette."

"Silence, brigand."

"Silence is best. You will hear enough when De Beaurepaire lets loose his tongue on you."

"Bah! I am not his servant nor in his pay as you are. I ride as his friend and help, not as his varlet. Yet, since he is here, I would see him. There is no man in all the world on whom I would more willingly set eyes" ("for his own good," Humphrey added to himself). Then he said aloud, "Now tell me where he is. Lead me to him."

"'Tis that which I am here to do," Fleur de Mai said, "though, in doing it, I bid you observe I obey him, not you. Come, therefore."

"Where is he, I say?" Humphrey exclaimed again, stamping his foot.

"At the stables, looking to his horse, as a good soldier should. Ciel! did you not hear him bid me find you?"

"I heard you say 'I will tell him,' meaning me I suppose. Well! let us away to the stables, they are close at hand."

"Come then, my pretty page," grunted Fleur de Mai contemptuously, and venting the spite which, from the first, he had conceived against the good-looking young man who was always so handsomely dressed and made so much of by the Duchess, as well as always a guest at her table while he and Boisfleury were relegated to the common living rooms at whatever hostelry the band put up.

Following after the fellow, Humphrey drew near the stables while puzzling his head as to what could have brought De Beaurepaire to Basle since he knew that, holding the offices he did, the Prince had no right whatever to be out of France.

"Has the plot failed already," Humphrey wondered as he went; "is it blown upon and has De Beaurepaire put himself outside France for safety? Or has he been unable to stay longer away from his fair friend, the Marquise? If 'tis the first, he may now ride on with the Duchess to the Milanese territory: if the second he has fair surroundings for his amorous dalliance. While as for me--well!--in either case I am free of my hurried ride to Paris. If the bubble has burst the King knows as much of it as I: if love has drawn De Beaurepaire hither, the two principals of that plot, she and he, can work no harm at present. I shall have time before me to meditate on what I must do."

By now, he and Fleur de Mai were outside the stables, one half of the doors of which stood ajar, while, through the opening thus made, there streamed out the glimmer of a lantern. When, however, Humphrey had followed the other in--and when "Soupir," who was in her stall at the top, turned round and whinnied as she heard her master's voice exclaim, "Where is the Prince? I see no one"--he noticed, by hearing the latch fall even as he spoke, that the door had closed--by itself as it seemed--behind him. Turning round instantly at this, he saw that a man enveloped in a long cloak had shut it.

"Who are you?" he exclaimed, addressing this man whose back was towards him, and whose face was, consequently, invisible, "and why do you close the door thus?"

"I am the Captain la Truaumont," the man said now, wheeling round and facing Humphrey, "and I have to speak with you."

"Where is De Beaurepaire? He is not here!" while Humphrey, suspecting some trick, took a step backwards as he spoke, and, dropping his left hand on his rapier hilt, loosened it in its sheath.

"Where he should be, I suppose, in Paris attending to his present duties. Later, as you know, he will have others to attend to. Meanwhile, loosen not your weapon. It will not save you here. I know a trick or two more of fence than you."

"It would seem you know many tricks, Captain La Truaumont. In spite, however, of your ordinance touching my weapon, I will make bold to draw it," and, in a moment, Humphrey's right hand had whipped the rapier from its sheath.

"So will I mine," he heard Fleur de Mai say.

"And I mine," exclaimed another voice which Humphrey recognised as that of Boisfleury.

"You see," said La Truaumont, "you are caught. Your English blade will stand you in little stead against three stout French ones. Though I account mine of so little need that, as yet, it is not drawn."

"Later," said Humphrey who, while he recognised that he was tricked and caught in a guet-apens from which there seemed little likelihood of escape, felt no tremor of fear: "Later, we will see for that. Meanwhile, ere we commence our play, explain to me what is the meaning of this--lie--that has been told me."

"The meaning is," said La Truaumont, "that you were locked in your room for some hours while I and two friends were in the salon of Madame La Marquise de Villiers-Bordéville. Owing to a grating between the two rooms, which her respected father discovered later, you were undoubtedly enabled to overhear all, or the greater part, of what took place in that salon. Do you deny or acknowledge this?"

"I deny and acknowledge nothing. What you imagine is of no import to me. No more than how you have become possessed of this knowledge through Madame's 'respected father,' or he, himself, of it."

"Yet you shall learn. The waiting-maid of Madame la Marquise, whom you bribed with a gold louis and fair words and sweet looks to give you information of her mistress, was over-bribed with five times the sum by me--who saw you engaged in talk with her--to give us information of you."

"Which, being gained, did not prevent you from speaking out your plot to one another. Bah! tell a better tale or none at all."

"Softly, beau gar?on. The maid was bribed to watch and see that you entered not into your room, it being thought you were still with your pretty Jacquette, or her mistress, or outside the house. Later, when you crept forth from your room, after locking it behind you, I comprehended that you had been in it all the time and that, also, you had doubtless heard all, the maid telling me you had not entered it since she took up her watch. Now, you have heard all, you hold us in your hand, our lives are at your mercy, unless----"

"Unless what!" speaking contemptuously.

"Unless we take yours."

"Take it then!" though, as Humphrey spoke, he turned his body a little so that, now, neither Fleur de Mai nor Boisfleury were any longer at his back but, instead, in a line with La Truaumont. Consequently, he had them all before him while the outer wall of the stable served as a base.

"You mean----"

"I mean, if you can."

"Sangdieu!" La Truaumont said, "though you are such a pretty youth you are also a bold one. It must be your mother's French blood makes you so! Yet, listen, Humphrey. We have all been comrades. Also remember, you are no tried ferrailleur. Fleur de Mai knows more of fence than you, and I than both."

"I will make proof of that ere many moments are past."

"Tush! be not a fool. A word can save you, one easy to speak since 'tis so small. You are of gentle birth in each land from which you draw your being; give me your word, foi de gentilhomme, that no breath of this ever passes your lips to any mortal soul; say 'Yes' to my proposal, and we clasp hands here and crack another bottle, as comrades should do, ere we sleep to-night."

"There is," said Humphrey quietly, and quietly contemptuous too, "another word as small as 'Yes' in your tongue. Smaller too, in mine. As easy, or easier therefore, to say."

"Fool! you mean----"

"I mean, 'No'. I mean that to-night I ride her," glancing towards Soupir, "across the frontier on my road to Paris, Fontainebleau or Versailles; wherever I may find Louis the King. I mean that every word I have overheard this night he shall hear from me a week hence or earlier. With, too, the names of those who have to-night complotted against his crown, his throne, his life--ah, brute! ruffian!" he broke off to exclaim as, at this moment, he saw Boisfleury creeping towards his mare; the sword the fellow held being shortened in his hand. "So, 'tis her you would first disable thereby to disable me." After which, and grasping his own weapon two feet below the pas-d'ane he swung it round as he advanced towards the creeping, crouching vagabond and, striking him full on the temple with the hilt, felled him to the straw of the stable.

"Now," Humphrey said, with a look on his face which possibly none had ever seen there before; a look black as the night outside, savage as the face of an aroused tiger, and with all of the devil that was in him aflame. "Now, be quick with your dirty work. There are but two against one left, and that one draws his thews and sinews from English loins. Be quick or soon there will be but one; the fight will be man to man. As for you, bully, come on." While, as Humphrey spoke, he thrust with his rapier full at the breast of Fleur de Mai and, had the burly scoundrel not stepped aside swiftly as he parried the blade, would have run him through from breast to back.

A moment later all was silent in that stable except for the muttered ejaculations, mostly of surprised admiration, which he could not resist, from La Truaumont; the heavy breathing of Fleur de Mai as Humphrey pressed him hardly, and the adder-like hissing of the two men's rapiers as they entwined with one another in a struggle à outrance.