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This rascal has marked you down, and sleeping or waking your life is in danger." I thanked the kind-hearted adventurer warmly for his service it was strange to think that but for a trifling accident he might have been earning Cordel's pay and promised to observe the greatest caution.
"It is plain the lawyer knows he has this L'Estang to fight against; but 'tis a pity your friend does not give a hint of what is in progress. He might, for instance, have sent a description of Cordel's tools." "Very probably he did. You forget that this letter only supplements the first one." "Yes," said Jacques, adding, "will you go to Poictiers, monsieur?" "I must.
"Tell me where to find your patron, and you can return at once," I said sternly; "I want no unwilling service!" but, muttering something under his breath he once more took his place beside Jacques. "'Tis a rough dog, L'Estang has sent me," I thought, "but one that will bite if need be. I wonder if the fellow he fired at was one of Cordel's ruffians? Strange that neither Jacques nor I saw him."
It was still dark when Jacques undid the fastenings of the gate, and I bade my guest farewell. "Remember my warning!" he whispered, "and keep free from Cordel's clutches." "A short visit, monsieur," commented Jacques, as L'Estang rode off. "But full of interest, nevertheless.
They departed sullenly, still murmuring threats of vengeance, and turning round to shake their motley weapons menacingly at Cordel's house. "Now, Monsieur Cordel," I cried, when the last of them had disappeared, "you can go to sleep without fear.
But once, when the stranger had shot a few paces to the front for as I have said he rode a splendid animal Jacques made me a swift sign that I should be cautious. Tracked, or Not? "That is your road, monsieur. At the end of a mile a cross-road leads straight to Etienne Cordel's dwelling. You will see the house from the spot where the road branches.
"De Pilles was at the Louvre!" "De Pilles is dead! Except Navarre, who cannot help even himself, you have not a single friend left. You cannot return to Le Blanc, and wherever you go you will be hunted down by Cordel's assassins. He can strike at you now without fear, and he will do so. He has the promise of your estates, and a strong hope of a patent of nobility.
He could strike at me only outside the castle walls, while the villagers were my devoted friends, and every man of them would be eager to put me on my guard. But Cordel's threats had apparently ended in smoke. Week followed week; the old year gave place to the new, and I remained unmolested.
Several weeks passed, and even after Cordel's return from Paris I remained in quiet possession of the castle. I received no papers from the king, but, on the other hand, no one made any attempt to molest me. It appeared as if the cloud had passed over without bursting. But I was yet to learn of what Etienne Cordel was capable.
"He is an old man, too," I said musingly. "But with all the fire of a boy, monsieur." "Have you heard that a price has been set on my father's head?" I asked presently. "Yes," and the worthy fellow's face clouded over with passion, "that is Etienne Cordel's handiwork." "But we have done the man no harm!" "He hates your father, monsieur; and, besides, Le Blanc is a fine property.
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