France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
He followed the direction of her hand, but saw nothing except scared
faces and cringing figures. "What boy, woman?" he retorted. "What do
you mean?"
"The boy who came after us to the church," she answered. "I saw him a
minute ago--there! He was standing behind that man, looking under his
arm."
Three strides brought the captain of the watch to the place indicated.
But there was no boy there--there was no boy to be seen. Moreover, the
frightened servants who stood in that part declared that they had seen
no boy--that no boy could have been there. The captain, believing that
they had had eyes only for Madame de Vidoche, put small faith in their
protestations; but the fact remained that the boy was gone, and the
searcher returned baffled and perplexed: more than half inclined to
think that this might be a ruse on the woman's part, yet at a loss to
see what good it could do her. He asked her roughly how old the boy
was.
"About twelve," she answered, looking nervously over her shoulder. In
truth, she began to fancy that the boy was a familiar. Or what could
bring him here? How had he entered? And whither had he vanished?
"How was he dressed?" the captain asked angrily, waving back the
servants, who would have pressed on him in their curiosity.
"In black velvet," she answered. "But he had no cap. He was
bareheaded. And I noticed that he had black hair and blue eyes."
"Are you sure that the boy you saw here was the boy who followed you
and spoke to madame in the street?" he urged. "Be careful, woman!"
"I am certain of it," she answered feverishly. "I knew him in a
moment."
"Are you sure that madame did not bring him in with you?"
She vowed positively that she had not, and equally positively that the
boy could not have followed them in without being seen. In this we
know that she was mistaken; but she believed it, and her belief
communicated itself to her questioner.
He rubbed his head with his hand in extreme perplexity. If the boy
were a messenger from the villain whom this wretched woman had been to
visit, what could have brought him to the house? Why had he risked
himself on the scene of the murder? Unless--unless, indeed, his
mission were to learn what happened, and to warn his master!
The captain caught that in a moment, and, thrusting the servants on
one side, despatched three or four men on the instant to the Rue
Touchet, "_Pardieu!_" he exclaimed, wiping his forehead when they were
gone, "I was nearly forgetting him. The villain! I will be sworn he
tempted her! But now I think I have netted all--madame, the maid, the
man, the devil!" He ticked them off on his fingers. "There is only the
lad wanting. The odds are they will get him, too, in the Rue Touchet.
So far, so good. But it is hateful work," the old soldier continued,
with an oath, looking askance at the group which surrounded madame and
the doctor. "They will--ugh! it is horrible. It would be a mercy to
give her a dose now, and end all."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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