The Grey Cloak - Page 113/256

"Messieurs," said Breton, "your eyes deceived you. The horizon is

clear. But take care, or you will have monsieur's clothes from the

hooks."

"Tell your master," said the vicomte, "that we shall pay him a visit

later, when he wakes." He opened the door, and followed D'Hérouville

out.

Once outside the two men gazed into each other's eyes. Each sought to

discover something that lay behind.

"The cloak!" D'Hérouville ran his fingers through his beard. "The

Chevalier has never searched the pockets."

"Let us lay the matter before him and acquaint him with our

suspicions," said the vicomte, his eyes burning. "His comrade's danger

is common to both of us. We will ask the Chevalier for his word, and

he will never break it."

"No! a thousand devils, no! Place my neck under his heel? Not I."

"You have some plan?"

"Beaufort offers five thousand livres for that paper, and Gaston will

give five thousand more to have proof that it is destroyed. That is

ten thousand, Monsieur."

"Handsome!"

"And I offer to share with you."

"You do not need money, Monsieur."

"I? The Jews have me tied in a thousand knots!" replied the count,

bitterly.

"I am not the least inclined toward partnership. You must manoeuver to

reach the inside of that cloak before I do. There is nothing more to

be said, Monsieur."

"Take care!" menacingly.

"Faith! Monsieur," the vicomte said, coolly, "my sword is quite as

long as yours. And there is the Chevalier. You must fight him first."

"And if you find the paper?" forcing a calm into his tones.

"I shall take the next ship back to France. I will see Beaufort and

Gaston, and the bubble will be pricked."

"Perhaps you may never return."

"As to that, we shall see. Come, is there not something more than ten

thousand livres behind that paper?"

"You banter. I do not understand."

"Is not madame's name there?"

"Well?"

"She is a widow, young, beautiful, and rich. And this incriminating

signature of hers,--what a fine thing it would be to hold over her

head! She is a woman, and a woman is easily duped in all things save

love."

D'Hérouville trembled. "You are forcing war."

"So be it," tranquilly. "I will make one compact with you; if I find

the paper I will inform you. Will you accept a like?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, then, once in Paris, I will stake ten thousand livres

against your tentative claims to madame's hand. We will play at

vingt-et-un. That is true gambling, Monsieur, and you are a good

judge."

"I pick up the gauntlet with pleasure, under all conditions. Besides,

an idea has occurred to me. The paper may not be what we think it is.

The man who killed De Brissac is not one to give up or throw away the

rewards. Eh, Monsieur?"