Trotto smiled, shrugged his shoulders, as only an Italian can, pushed open the door, and entered the chamber. The spear-shaped flames of two tall candles but half lit the room, making a circle of wavering light. Beyond all was in uncertain gloom, through which one could dimly see the old tapestry and massive furniture of bygone years. Where the light was brightest was an easy-chair, and there sat Simon of Orrain, with his bandaged right arm resting on a cushion, placed on a low table drawn close to him. As Trotto entered he looked up with a snarl. "What is it? Did I not say I was to be left alone? Curse this arm!" "Ah, excellency," and Trotto glanced at the throbbing arm, "you should have waited for Aramon's return, or taken us with you." But Simon broke in: "I tell you, Trotto, the plan was perfect, and if it had not been for the accident of that villain's coming our bird would have been here by this. Even when he came, if La Crotte had but stood his ground--but there! Give me some of that wine. My blood is red hot, and my throat on fire with the pain of this wound!" Torquato Trotto filled a cup from a flagon that lay on the table near the Vidame. Simon took it from him with his left hand, drained it, and flung it from him, so that it struck the wainscoting of the wall, and fell with a crash on the floor. "La Crotte shall hang for this," he went on savagely. "The cur! the coward!" "You will make your wound worse, excellency. Be calm! There is time for things to mend." "Time! When the whole affair has been bungled--and by you." "By me, excellency?" "Yes; if you had given me Piero and Malsain instead of those serving-wenches Billot and La Crotte." Torquato lifted a deprecating hand. "They did well before, excellency; and Billot could not have done better, for he is dead, you say. And as for La Crotte----" "He shall hang--hang to the first tree." "As your excellency pleases. He has, however, to be caught first. But in the meantime I have intruded on you because I think we can yet save the game." "Ugh!" "Your excellency, I have a plan; and I think we win the odd trick." "Well, what is your brilliant idea?" Trotto coughed. "But the risk, excellency, is greatly increased now that this man is mixed up in the affair." Simon straightened himself in his chair and looked at the captain. "I suppose you want more money. Well, what is your plan?" "With your excellency's permission I will keep that to myself, for a plan is a plan when one head holds it. But if I were to place your prize in your hands by tomorrow morning?" "Impossible!" "But I say it is possible." "Then five hundred crowns the day you reach Paris." Trotto shook his head. "It could be done for a thousand, excellency--for certain." Simon's eyes seemed to sink back deeper into their hollow sockets, and his face became paler, if possible. "A thousand devils! Impossible! It's a fortune!"