That I knew well. If I
should go to leave the chamber, he would give the signal for Montignac to
kill mademoiselle. As for me. I did not wish to go without her or until I
should have accomplished a certain design I had conceived. Thus I was La
Chatre's prisoner, and he was mine. Each could only hope, by thought or
talk, to arrive at some means of getting the better of the other.
La Chatre's back was towards the door by which I had entered. By mere
chance, it seemed, I turned my head towards that door. At that instant,
my man, Frojac, appeared in the doorway. He had approached with the
silence of a ghost. He carried the arquebus that had belonged to the
guardsman, and his match was burning. Risking all on the possible effect
of a sudden surprise on the governor, I cried, sharply:
"Fire on that man, Frojac, if he moves."
La Chatre, completely startled, rose from his chair and turned about,
forgetful of the stick and bowl. When his glance reached Frojac, my good
man had his arquebus on a line with the governor's head, the match
dangerously near the breech.
"I have looked after the guards, monsieur," said Frojac, cheerily,
"both of them."
"Stand where you are," said I to him, "and if that gentleman attempts to
strike that bowl, see that he does not live to strike it more than once."
"He shall not strike it even once, monsieur!"
"You see, M. de la Chatre," said I, "the contents of an arquebus travel
faster than a man can.
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