He was still immersed in the terrible responsibility that had been thrust upon him when M. de Rochambeau came back into the room, accompanied by Messieurs de Montmorin and de Rayneval.
"Now for the letter!" said the Marquis eagerly. "While we take care of that you, de Rayneval, had best order your baggage to be carried downstairs and get into your travelling things. Not a moment must be lost in transmitting the despatch; and, lest the Archbishop weaken overnight, you must be well on your way to the Hague by morning. Then it will be too late for any last moment shilly-shallying to rob us of our triumph."
"You are right, Marquis!" cried de Rayneval. "I'll make my preparations with all speed and rejoin you here the instant I am done;" and he hurried from the room.
The Marquis glanced at Roger. "You have parchment there? Take down my words in a clear hand. Address the letter to His Excellency, Mynheer van Berkel, Pensionary of Amsterdam; for submission to Their High Mightinesses the States-General of the United Provinces, and all whom it may concern."
Roger tried his quill and wrote the superscription, then he took down the despatch as the Marquis dictated it. The document was short and to the point; a clear and unequivocal promise of armed support by France should this prove necessary for the establishment and maintenance of a new Butch Republican Government in which for the future all sovereign powers of the United Provinces were to be vested.
When they had done the Comte de Montmorin signed the letter and produced a big seal from a satin-lined box that he had brought with him. Roger fetched wax from his office and the document was duly sealed with the impress of the Foreign Minister to His Most Christian Majesty Louis XVI of France.
It was now close on midnight. M. de Montmorin pleaded fatigue and, having congratulated the Marquis once more, took his departure, leaving M. de Rochambeau and Roger alone together.
For all his iron self-discipline the Marquis could hardly contain his excitement, while he waited for M. de Rayneval to return and collect the letter. Pacing up and down with his hands clasped behind his back he muttered to Roger:
' 'This is a great night, Breuc, a great night! You have been privileged to witness an historic occasion. For more than twelve months I have laboured tirelessly, and now, on the delivery of this despatch, I shall begin to reap my reward. This time next year you will see the real fruits of my work for France. Tis then that we shall witness the downfall of the avaricious, unscrupulous English. 'Tis then that their accursed island will at last be overwhelmed, and the Fleur-de-Lys of France fly unchallenged on every sea."
For a moment the veil of the Marquis's aloof passivity was lifted and Roger could see the hatred and ambition seething in his brain. With a flash of intuition he realised that the vain, empty Archbishop must fall like corn before the scythe of the reaper in front of tins imperialistic juggernaut. It was not Lomenie de Brienne who, if this conspiracy of conquest succeeded, would be the all-powerful Prime Minister of a Europe under the heel of France, or de Breteuil, or de Castries, or de Polignac; it would be the Marechal Due de Rochambeau.
Suddenly there was a commotion outside in the office. Both Roger and the Marquis turned towards the door. It was flung violently open and Count Lucien staggered in.
As his glance fell on Roger he let out a yell of mingled surprise and rage.
"Mort du diable! To find you here was beyond my wildest hopes! But for this final audacity you'll pay with your neck!"
Swinging round on his father, he shouted: "Do'st know the snake that thou hast harboured here? He had wounded me and killed de Caylus this very night! Aye, and the cur has brought indelible shame upon our house. He has seduced Athenais!"
Roger overturned the small table behind which he stood and jumped for the door. But it was too late. Attracted by Count Lucien's shouts the two footmen had come running upstairs; with them, in the office, were Paintendre and the returning M. de Rayneval. The way was blocked and Roger was unarmed. He knew that he was trapped.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE THREE FUGITIVES
FOR a second all seven men remained absolutely motionless, as though posed in some dramatic tableaux vivant; three on the inner side of the open doorway and four on the outer. Suddenly they came to life.
"Seize him!" cried Count Lucien to the footmen. "Seize him, and call the Archers of the Guard!"
The footmen were just behind M. de Rayneval. As they pushed past him to obey, Roger acted. Thrusting Count Lucien aside with one hand he slammed the door to with the other, locked it and pulled the key out. Turning his back to the door, he faced father and son.
The young Count gave a shout: "Break down the door! Break down the door!" And those outside began to hammer upon it.
The Marquis's face was now chalk-white. "It cannot be true," he gasped. " 'Tis like a nightmare! I'll not believe it!"
Roger's shove had sent Count Lucien reeling against a gilded console table fixed to the wall. The blood was seeping through a bandage on his thigh, and with one foot slightly raised he clung to the table for support.
"You'll have ample proof soon enough, Monsieur," he cried. "My own blood is first testimony to what I say, and de Caylus's servants will have carried the story of the fight to a hundred ears by now."
"And whose fault is that?" Roger snapped. "Had you not snatched off my mask and given free rein to your imbecile tongue no one would ever have known who it was that challenged de Caylus to fight, or why."
"Mask! Challenge!" exclaimed the Marquis. "What means all this? For God's sake tell me plainly what has occurred."
"De Caylus and myself were returning from Versailles to his house in the Bois de Meudon," said Count Lucien hurriedly. "Our coach was held up by this churl and some friends of his. They wounded one of the servants then attacked us, forcing us to fight."
"You cowardly assassin! Why not stick to the truth?" Roger cried, trembling with rage. "My friends accompanied me only to see fair play. Since de Caylus refused the civil challenge that I sent I was forced to taunt him to a fight; but when we did fight it was man to man; until you sneaked up on me from the rear and tried to run me through the back. Yet even then I bested both of you single-handed and, having marked you well, slew him in fair fight.
The Marquis stared at him with unbelieving eyes. "You killed de Caylus in single combat? I'll not believe it! He was one of the finest swordsmen in all France."
Roger shrugged. "Disbelieve it then, if you wish. Those who saw it will vouch for what I say."
To make themselves heard they now had to shout, as the people outside had fetched implements and were endeavouring to break down the door; but it was of heavy oak with a good stout lock and at present only quivered at the blows that rained upon it.
"What quarrel had you with de Caylus?" the Marquis asked suddenly, still seeking to grasp the rights of this terrible affair.
Lucien replied for Roger with his accustomed venom. "He killed the Count to prevent his wedding Athenais. Did I not tell you, Monsieur, that this viper has become her lover? Had I not unmasked him he would have achieved his end of remaining on here and keeping her for his mistress."
" 'Tis a he!" roared Roger. "I'll not deny that I love Athenais, but I would have been happy to see her wed to any decent man."