'Jack, do not move,' cried Stephen, for he and Jagiello were upon their spring, as dangerous as tigers. 'Gentlemen, good evening. Pray walk in.' He stepped forward and fell into the free night up to his waist. Jack and Duhamel leapt across and plucked him out, each by a hand: they hoped he was not hurt. 'Not at all, I thank you,' said Stephen, mopping his shin - it gave him an extreme though superficial agony. 'Gentlemen,' he said somewhat sharply, 'please to state your business.'
'You will not remember me, Dr Maturin,' said the first man, advancing. 'D'Anglars: I had the honour of meeting you when I was attached to the suite of Monsieur de Talleyrand-Perigord during his embassy to London; and I believe we have several common friends.'
'I remember you perfectly, sir,' said Stephen, 'and of course I recall his Excellency with the greatest esteem. I had the pleasure of seeing him a little while ago. Neither of you has changed at all.' This was not quite true as far as d'Anglars was concerned; he was now but an aged beauty and even by lantern-light the rouge showed plain on his intelligent, lively, but ravaged face. On the other hand, Stephen did have an affectionate admiration for the Bishop of Autun, or the Prince de Benevent as he was now styled: a pillar of falsehood, a prodigy, a phoenix of- duplicity, but excellent company, and by a certain standard quite sound.
'You are too, too kind,' said d'Anglars with a turn of his person that reminded Stephen of La Mothe, who was in fact one of their common friends. 'I see you are busy,' he went on, 'but perhaps we might have a word together? You will excuse us,' he said, bowing to Captain Aubrey and Jagiello.
'By all means,' said Jack, returning the civility; and glancing beyond him Stephen observed that d'Anglars' companions were Duhamel, of course, an officer whose cloak only partly hid a very splendid uniform, and a man in black whose face, in spite of an eye-shade, he connected with the foreign ministry, the upper reaches of the foreign ministry.
They walked into Jagiello's room with the candle, now very low, and sat in the window-seat. 'Duhamel has told us your conditions,' said d'Anglars. 'We agree on all points but one. You require the restitution of the stone, the Blue Peter; and the stone alas we cannot produce immediately. But here is a pledge of its eventual restoration.' He brought out an episcopal ring set with a huge amethyst: Stephen looked at it with some curiosity but not much liking; he did not seem pleased and he did not reply. 'On the other hand,' d'Anglars went on, 'we can produce the stone's owner, ready and indeed eager to travel, as you put it.' His voice was urgent, ingratiating, uncertain. Stephen still did not answer, but turned the amethyst over and over in the candlelight. 'And as for compensation,' said d'Anglars, more confident now, 'I have draughts here on Drummond's...
'No, no,' said Stephen. 'That would complicate matters, and I have always avoided complication. Tell me, what guarantees do you offer?'
'We three will go with you to the cartel at Calais, and cross to England if you wish. Our life, or at least our liberty, will be in your hands: you may carry what weapons you choose.'
'Very well,' said Stephen. 'My companions come with me, of course?'
'Captain Aubrey and young Apollo?'
'Just so.'
'Certainly.'
'Then let us go.'
As they walked back, Stephen limping, d'Anglars said pleasantly, nodding at the dislocated jakes, 'I am concerned that you should have had so much trouble; but nothing could serve our purpose more prettily: wonderfully a propos: the perfect alibi. This way, by the door.'
'Captain Aubrey, Mr Jagiello,' said Stephen, 'we will go with these gentlemen, if you please.'
Politeness over precedence at the open door, locked behind them, then down and down the spiral staircase, a long passage, a courtyard they had never seen, a wicket with two dark figures that stood aside for them to pass, then the street, wonderfully open and ordinary: two coaches and two horses led. The man in black and the cloaked officer mounted. Jack, Duhamel and Jagiello stepped into the first coach, Stephen and d'Anglars into the second, and they drove off at a steady trot through the quiet dark streets - a warm, covered night - down towards the river.
'Where do we take up the lady?' asked Stephen.
'Why, at the Hotel de La Mothe,' said d'Anglars, surprised.
'Indeed? You are as sure as that?'
'Oh yes,' said d'Anglars, and it was clear from his voice that he was smiling.
'She has not been molested?'
'Not really. There was an American gentleman, a newly-arrived American gentleman, enquiring for a compatriot with whom he thought she might have some connection; but she has not been molested.'
On the Pont au Change Stephen said, 'It is understood, is it not, that she will believe this release to be entirely her own doing?'
'Certainly,' said d'Anglars. 'Certainly.' And he added, 'Anything else would be folly, from our point of view.'
The rue de Crenelle, and already a few market-waggons, one piled high with flowers. The Hotel de La Mothe, and Diana was waiting for them there in the courtyard, slender under her hooded cloak, with a group of menservants by another coach loaded with trunks. Stephen leapt out and limped up to her, she running to meet him; they kissed and he said 'Dearest Diana, how profoundly I thank you: but I have cost you the Blue Peter.'
'Oh how happy I am to see you,' she said, holding his arm. 'Be damned to the necklace: you will be my diamond.' Then, 'Stephen, you have torn your stocking - your leg is all covered with blood.'
'Sure, I just barked my shin. Tell, how do you do, my jewel? I heard from Baudelocque that you were not quite well.'
'Stephen,' she said, looking at him under the lamp, 'I did not do it, I promise you. I kept my word: I took great care: I was amazed - amazed. Dr Baudelocque said it could not be helped, upon my honour.'
'There was no help for it,' he said, nodding, 'that I know very well. Give me your hand, put your foot on the step, and we are away: with the blessing.'
