He was surrounded. The lieutenant, who wore a face of incredulous wonder, bowed stiffly. “Señor, I regret, I must ask you for your sword.” It was presented him, hilt foremost. “Señor, be good enough to go with us.”
“With the greatest pleasure on earth Señor lieutenant,” said Beauvallet. He looked towards the Andalusian. “Don Juan, it seems I may have to forego my game of trucos with you tomorrow, and maybe some other engagements I had made. Accept my apologies. But all the other engagements that I have for later dates shall certainly be kept. Señor, lead on!”
He went out, close-guarded, but his voice echoed still in Dominica’s ears: “The engagements that I have for later dates shall certainly be kept … shall certainly be kept.”
XV
Joshua Dimmock, prowling in the shadows outside the Casa Noveli, saw enough, and more than enough to set him fingering his dagger. Certain, it itched to be out, but “Yarely, my man, yarely,” Joshua cautioned himself. “One man at large is better than two caged.”
It was his habit to lurk near whatever house Sir Nicholas stayed in. He was laughed at for his pains, but laid a finger to his nose. “I look for trouble,” quoth Joshua Dimmock. “I don’t wait to have it brought to my notice.”
It seemed he had good reason. The gentleman who went running out to fetch in the ginetes from the barracks hard by little knew how nearly he ran on death. The dagger was out, a wicked blade, long and razor-edged; Joshua, guessing from the sound of turmoil within what evil fate had chanced, guessed also this flying gentleman’s errand. To stab him where the neck joined the shoulder would be easy enough. Ay, and then what? Joshua put up his dagger, snatched so instinctively from its sheath. No way to get Sir Nicholas off, that.
He bethought him that he had maybe let his mind jump at conclusions; drew further into the shadows, and waited. He saw the ginetes come; they passed so close he might have touched one. They went into the house, and came out again soon with Sir Nicholas Beauvallet in their midst.
“Ay, I beagled it out well enough,” Joshua muttered. “Now what?” He saw Sir Nicholas walking briskly between his guards, heard him say something to the lieutenant, and laugh. “He goes fleering to death!” groaned Joshua. “Mocker, mocker! Will you not look your fate in the face and know yourself sped at last? But this is to tax idle circumstance.” He pulled himself together. “Up, mother-wit! No time for mourning, this.” He peered towards the open door of the house, where two lackeys stood talking excitedly together. “I see the first step of my way. Now to sound these hildings.” He withdrew a little way, came out from the shadow of the wall, and went towards the Casa Noveli at a brisk trot. “What’s here?” he cried out. “Guards at your place! Who was’t? Strange doings!” He became the epitome of curiosity, and got his answer.
“Madre de Dios!” one of the lackeys said. “They say it is the pirate, El Beauvallet!”
“Jesu!” Joshua fell back, and crossed himself. “That fine gentleman? Do you make a jest of me? How should such a thing be, pray you?”
The first man shook his head hopelessly; it was his companion who answered, as he prepared to go indoors. “Why, there’s Admiral Perinat within, foaming like a mad dog.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “He it was cried out on the Chevalier.”
Joshua wanted no more. The lackeys went in, remembering their duties; Joshua went speeding towards the Puerta del Sol.
He was in time; no guards had come yet to the Rising Sun to ransack his master’s baggage. He slipped in at the back entrance, waited for a cook-maid’s back to be turned, and so got him upstairs unseen.
He did swift work there. Doublets, hose, boots, shirts were flung from the chest by the window, some of them stowed away pell-mell into a pack, the rest left to lie on the floor.
“Here we play the knavish servant,” Joshua encouraged himself. “What it is to have a head on one’s shoulders!” He found Sir Nicholas’ strongbox, and forced it open with the point of his dagger. “Ay, thus it goes. We take the money, and some few papers we may need, and leave the box to tell of our thieving. Ha, what’s this?” He unfolded the Chevalier de Guise’s pass. “Softly, Joshua, that should be found, for I think we have no more need of it, and it may very easily help Sir Nicholas. We must be supposed to have searched in vain for it.” He looked round him, saw a loose mandilion he had pulled out of the cupboard, and caught it up. “In the pocket, I believe. Lie there then, and I hope they may find you.” He tucked the pass into an inner pocket, and hung the coat up at the back of the cupboard. “Ay, we sought it, and found it not. It may serve you yet, master.” He came away from the cupboard. “Cheerly, Joshua! all will be well yet. Now to stow these clothes away.” He packed as much of Sir Nicholas’ raiment as he could carry with him, hid the jewels about his own person, and nipped out to get such of his own traps as he should need. Still there came no sound of guards approaching to seize Beauvallet’s papers. Joshua spied from the window, listened, heard only the voice of a tapster below, and drew in again to finish his work. Two neat bundles stood ready upon the floor, but this did not seem to be enough for Joshua Dimmock. He went to work to create more havoc, and succeeded very fairly. A small chest he had emptied he chose to lock,
