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Peyrolles frowned, but there was no help for it; so he rose to his feet, untroubled this time by the restraining fingers of Passepoil, and, going to the table, wrote the demanded document, with every appearance of repugnance at the task and its conditions, for the pen was vile, the ink viler, and the paper vilest. When he had finished, Cocardasse took it from him and scanned it carefully.
Cocardasse and his companion were recognized fencing-masters in Paris, well esteemed, if not of the highest note, whereas Staupitz was no better than an ordinary bully-broker, and his so-styled children no more than provincial rascallions.
"In all the tumult of that tragic night I thought I saw two figures standing apart thought they might be, must be, my old friends. That is why I have sent for you." "Sent for us?" Cocardasse echoed in astonishment. "Was it you who " Passepoil questioned, equally surprised. "Why, of course it was," Lagardere answered. "Sit down and listen."
"Devotion!" cried Cocardasse. "Discretion!" cried Passepoil, and each of the men saluted Lagardere with a military salute.
Then Cocardasse and Passepoil went out through the antechamber, and Lagardere remained alone with the Three Louis. He rose again and looked at them each in turn, and his mind was hived with memories as he gazed.
Then the full meaning of it seemed to fall upon him like a blow, and his face blazed at the insult. "Nevers! You! Ah, this is an ambuscade, and I have sat at drink with assassins!" Cocardasse protested: "Come, captain, come." Lagardere's only answer was to spring back clear of the nearest swordsmen and to draw his sword again.
"Children!" he said, with a forced laugh, and it was with a forced laugh that Passepoil repeated the word "Bogey." For a moment the good-humor faded from the face of Lagardere, and he spoke grimly enough: "There were nine assassins in the moat at Caylus. How many are left now?" "Only three," Cocardasse answered. Passepoil was more precise. "Cocardasse and myself and Æsop."
As he spoke he tossed the bag over to Staupitz, who caught it dexterously and put it in his pocket. On this Peyrolles made to rise, and again found that the hand of Passepoil, obedient to a glance from Cocardasse, descended upon his shoulder and nailed him to his place. "Wait," said Cocardasse, amiably, "we must have some surety for the lave of the money." "Is not my word enough?"
"Ever since that night I have lived in Spain, hunted for a while by Gonzague's gang, until, gradually, Gonzague's gang ceased to exist." "The thrust of Nevers," Cocardasse commented, quietly. Lagardere smiled sadly. "Exactly. I had only one purpose in life to avenge Nevers and to protect Nevers's child. I abandoned my captaincy of irregulars when the late cardinal quarrelled with Spain.
Passepoil nodded, and glided discreetly among the bravos huddled together at the table, whispering the words of Cocardasse in the ears of each. Lagardere frowned at this mystery. "What are you whispering?" he asked, angrily. Cocardasse explained, plausibly. "Only that if you wanted to keep Nevers to yourself " Passepoil interrupted, concluding: "It mattered little who did the job."
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