My Sword's My Fortune: A Story of Old FranceHayens, Herbert
History
My Sword's My Fortune: A Story of Old France
Hayens, Herbert
France -- History -- 17th century -- Fiction
Ignoring the doubtful compliment, and taking up the note afresh, I
observed that I should soon be able to tell who wrote it.
"It is possible," he agreed, "quite possible."
He had regained his composure, and, indeed, seemed rather pleased than
otherwise at the turn events were taking. Still he did not quite know
what to make of me, and now and then a shadow of anxiety flitted across
his face.
As we sat staring at each other it dawned upon me that I had a new
problem to solve. What was to be done with this unwelcome visitor? I
had made up my mind to meet D'Arcy, and the sound of a neighbouring
clock striking nine warned me there was short time left for decision.
"Suppose I let you go?" I asked, half amused at the comical situation.
"That would be agreeable to me."
"Would you promise to say nothing about this affair till the morning?"
"Readily, monsieur."
"And break your promise at the first opportunity?"
"That is probable, monsieur. You see, I have a very bad memory," and
he laughed.
"Then you must be kept here. I am sorry; I have no wish to hurt you,
but there is no other way."
"As you please," he replied, and submitted quietly to be bound with
strips torn from the bedclothes.
I fastened the knots securely, yet so as to cause him the least
suffering, and then proceeded to improvise a gag. At this point his
calmness disappeared, and for a short time he looked both surprised and
angry.
[Transcriber's note: illustration missing from book]
However, he soon recovered his spirits, and said admiringly, "Surely
monsieur must be a gaoler by profession; he knows all the tricks of the
trade."
"Ah," said I, laughing, "you did not expect this?"
He shook his head disconsolately.
"But it is necessary."
"It may be for you."
"Let us say for both, since you will be prevented from getting into
mischief. But come; I will make you comfortable."
The man's eyes twinkled, and any one outside hearing him laugh would
have thought we were engaged in a humorous game.
"_Ma foi!_" he exclaimed, "you are politeness itself. First I am to be
bound and gagged, and then made comfortable. But there is just one
thing which troubles me."
"Speak out; I may be able to set your mind at ease."
"It is just possible that some one, not knowing your good points, may
cut off your head."
"Well?"
"In that case, with a gag in my mouth, I shall be unable to express my
sorrow."
"Have no fear," I replied, catching his meaning. "Whatever happens to
me, and the venture is certainly risky, I promise you shall be released
in the morning."
"Thanks, monsieur," he said, looking considerably relieved, "you
certainly play the game like a gentleman."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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