Montlivet | Page 7

gravely. "If you wish to get away, go quickly,
or you may not go at all. Now you must report to the commandant."
But I had turned my face the other way. "Not till I have found Pierre," I
returned.
I had no summer stroll before me. Pierre, Anak that he was, was as lost
as a leaf in a whirlpool, and though I had quick eyes, and shoulders that
could force a passage for me in a crowd, I could see no sign of his
oriole crest of red head in all the bobbing multitude of blackbirds.
Instead I stumbled upon Cadillac.
He linked his arm in mine. "Do you know," he said abruptly, "the
prisoner has spirit and to spare. He may be a man of importance after
all."
I answered like a fool. "I think not. He is dressed like a yeoman."
Cadillac put me at arm's length, and puffed his cheeks with silent
laughter. "Plumage, eh? Are you willing to be judged by your own?"
He stopped to let his glance rest on my shabby gear. "Truly it must be a
long year since you fronted a mirror, or you would not be so
complacent. No, monsieur, the prisoner is a gentleman. No yeoman
ever carried his head with such a poise. But who is he? I would give all
the pistoles in my pocket--though, in faith, they're few enough--if I
could understand English. But you may be able to help me. Go speak to
the prisoner in Huron. He must have picked up something of the Indian
speech in his trip here."
This was my opportunity. "Monsieur," I said, "I should like an
understanding. Remember how little all this can mean to me,--a
trader,--and do not think me churlish if I try to keep myself free from
this intrigue. I will go to the prisoner now, if you wish; but, that done, I
beg you to hold me excused of any further service in this matter."

Cadillac looked me over, and now his glance went, not to my doublet,
but to the man within. "A trader!" he said curtly. "A trader carrying
contraband brandy. A good commandant would send you back where
you belong. No, no, monsieur, wait! I am not threatening you. Though
you know as well as I that the thumb-screws are rather convenient to
my hand should I care to use them. But there should be no necessity for
that. Montlivet, I hardly understand your reluctance in the matter of this
Englishman. We should be one in this affair, whatever our private
concerns. Even Black Gown and I--and the world says we are not
lovers--are working together. Why do you draw back?"
I could not meet him with less than the truth. "You have stated the
reason, monsieur. My private concerns,--they seem large to me, and I
fear to jeopard them by becoming entangled here. I regret this. You
have shown me great clemency in the matter of the brandy,--though if
you had confiscated it I should still have pushed on,--and for that, and
for your own sake, monsieur, I should be glad to serve you."
He looked at my outstretched palm, and laid his own upon it. "'T is
fairly spoken," he said slowly, "and I think you mean it." Then he grew
peevish. "A pest on this country!" he cried. "We are all kings in
disguise, and have a monarchy hidden in our hats. And what does it
amount to? No bread, no wine, no thanks; a dog's life and a jackal's
death,--and all to hold some leagues of barren land for his
petticoat-ridden majesty at Versailles. Oh, why not say it? We can tell
the truth here without losing our heads."
"The king's arm"--I began.
"Is long," he interrupted. "Yet, in truth, your face is longer. Are you so
eager to be gone? Well, get you to the prisoner, and, my hand on it, I
shall ask for nothing more."
CHAPTER III
BEHIND THE COMMANDANT'S DOOR
The commandant's door had come to be the portal through which I

stepped from safety into meddling. Yet I opened it now with laughter
peeping from my sleeve. To bait the Englishman in Huron seemed a
good-natured enough jest, and full of possibilities.
But one look at the prisoner drained my laughter. He was lying on a
bench, his face hidden in his out-flung arms, and his slenderness and
helplessness pulled at me hard. I knew that despair, and even tears,
must have conquered now that he was alone, and I wished that I might
save his pride, and slip away until he had fought back his bravery, and
had himself in hand.
But he had heard my step, and drew himself up to face me. He turned
with composure, and fronted me with so