recognized him as de Soyecourt's guest, and after a whispered consultation admitted him. In the courtyard a lackey took charge of Monsieur Bulmer, and he was conducted into the presence of the Marquis de Soyecourt. 'What the devil!' thought John Bulmer, 'is Bellegarde in a state of siege?'
The little Marquis sat beside the Duchesse de Puysange, to the rear of a long table with a crimson cover. Their attitudes smacked vaguely of the judicial, and before them stood, guarded by four attendants, a ragged and dissolute looking fellow whom the Marquis was languidly considering.
'My dear man,' de Soyecourt was saying as John Bulmer came into the room 'when you brought this extraordinary epistle to Bellegarde, you must have been perfectly aware that thereby you were forfeiting your life. Accordingly, I am compelled to deny your absurd claims to the immunity of a herald, just as I would decline to receive a herald from the cockroaches.'
'That is cowardly,' the man said. 'I come as the representative of an honorable enemy who desires to warn you before he strikes.'
'You come as the representative of vermin,' de Soyecourt retorted, 'and as such I receive you. You will therefore, permit me to wish you a pleasant journey into eternity. Why, hola, madame! here is that vagabond guest of ours returned to observation!' The Marquis rose and stepped forward, all abeam. 'Mr. Bulmer, I can assure you that I was never more delighted to see anyone in my entire life.'
'Pardon, monseigneur,' one of the attendants here put in,—'but what shall we do with this Achon?'
The Marquis slightly turned his head, his hand still grasping John Bulmer's. 'Why, hang him, of course,' he said. 'Did I forget to tell you? But yes, take him out, and have him confessed by Frere Joseph, and hang him at once.' The four men removed their prisoner.
'You find us in the act of dispensing justice,' the Marquis continued, 'yet at Bellegarde we temper it with mercy, so that I shall ask no indiscreet questions concerning your absence of last night.'
'But I, monsieur,' said John Bulmer, 'I, too, have come to demand justice.'
'Tete-bleu, Mr. Bulmer! and what can I have the joy of doing for you in that respect?'
'You can restore to me my wife.'
And now de Soyecourt cast a smile toward the Duchess, who appeared troubled. 'Would you not have known this was an Englishman,' he queried, 'by the avowed desire for the society of his own wife? They are a mad race. And indeed, Mr. Bulmer, I would very gladly restore to you this hitherto unheard-of spouse if but I were blest with her acquaintance. As it is—' He waved his hand.
'I married her only yesterday,' said John Bulmer, 'and I have reason to believe that she is now within Bellegarde.'
He saw the eyes of de Soyecourt slowly narrow. 'Jacques,' said the Marquis, 'fetch me the pistol within that cabinet.' The Marquis resumed his seat to the rear of the table, the weapon lying before him. 'You may go now, Jacques; this gentleman and I are about to hold a little private conversation.' Then, when the door had closed upon the lackey, de Soyecourt said, 'Pray draw up a chair within just ten feet of this table, monsieur, and oblige me with your wife's maiden name.'
'She was formerly known,' John Bulmer answered, 'as Mademoiselle Claire de Puysange.'
The Duchess spoke for the first time. 'Oh, the poor man! Monsieur de Soyecourt, he is evidently insane.'
'I do not know about that,' the Marquis said, fretfully, 'but in any event I hope that no more people will come to Bellegarde upon missions which, compel me to have them hanged. First there was this Achon, and now you, Mr. Bulmer, come to annoy me.—Listen, monsieur,' he went on, presently: 'last evening Mademoiselle de Puysange announced to the Duchess and me that her impending match with the Duke of Ormskirk must necessarily be broken off, as she was already married. She had, she stated, encountered you and a clergyman yonder the forest, where, on the spur of the moment, you two had espoused each other; and was quite unable to inform us what had become of you after the ceremony. You can conceive that, as a sensible man, I did not credit a word of her story. But now, as I understand it, you corroborate this moonstruck narrative?'
John Bulmer bowed his head. 'I have that honor, monsieur.'
De Soyecourt sounded the gong beside him. 'In that event, it is uncommonly convenient to have you in hand. Your return, to Bellegarde I regard as opportune, even though I am compelled to attribute it to insanity; personally, I disapprove of this match with Milor Ormskirk, but as Gaston is bent upon it, you will understand that in reason my only course is to make Claire a widow as soon as may be possible.'
'It is intended, then,' John Bulmer queried, 'that I am to follow Achon?'
'I can but trust,' said the Marquis, politely, 'that your course of life has qualified you for a superior flight, since Achon's departing, I apprehend, is not unakin to a descent.'
'No!' the Duchess cried, suddenly; 'Monsieur de Soyecourt, can you not see the man is out of his senses? Let Claire be sent for. There is some mistake.'
De Soyecourt shrugged. 'Yen know that I can refuse you nothing. Jacques,' he called, to the appearing lackey, 'request Mademoiselle de Puysange to honor us, if it be convenient, with her presence. Nay, I pray you, do not rise, Mr. Bulmer; I am of a nervous disposition, startled by the least movement, and my finger, as you may note, is immediately upon the trigger.'
So they sat thus, John Bulmer beginning to feel rather foolish as time wore on, though actually it was not a long while before Claire had appeared in the doorway and had paused there. You saw a great wave of color flood her countenance, then swiftly ebb. John Bulmer observed, with a thrill, that she made no sound, but simply waited, composed and alert, to find out how much de Soyecourt knew before she spoke.
The little Marquis said, 'Claire, this gentleman informs us that you married him yesterday.'
Tranquilly she inspected her claimant. 'I did not see Monsieur Bulmer at all yesterday, so far as I remember. Why, surely, Louis, you did not take my nonsense of last night in earnest?' she demanded, and gave a mellow ripple of laughter. 'Yes, you actually believed it; you actually believed that I walked into the forest and married the first man I met there, and that this is he. As it happens I did not; so please let Monsieur Bulmer go at once, and put away that absurd pistol—at once, Louis, do you hear?'
The Duchess shook her head. 'She is lying, Monsieur de Soyecourt, and undoubtedly this is the man.'
John Bulmer went to the girl and took her hand. 'You are trying to save me, I know. But need I warn you that the reward of Ananias was never a synonym for felicity?'
'Jean Bulmer! Jean Bulmer!' the girl asked, and her voice was tender; 'why did you return to Bellegarde, Jean Bulmer?'
'I came,' he answered, 'for the absurd reason that I cannot live without you.'
They stood thus for a while, both her hands clasped in his, 'I believe you,' she said at last, 'even though I do not understand at all, Jean Bulmer.' And then she wheeled upon the Marquis, 'Yes, yes!' Claire said; 'the man is my husband. And I will not have him harmed. Do you comprehend?—you shall not touch him, because you are not fit to touch him, Louis, and also because I do not wish it.'
De Soyecourt looked toward the Duchess as if for advice. 'It is a nuisance, but evidently she cannot marry Milor Ormskirk so long as Mr. Bulmer is alive. I suppose it would be better to hang him out-of-hand?'
'Monsieur de Puysange would prefer it, I imagine,' said the Duchess; 'nevertheless, it appears a great pity.'
'In nature,' the Marquis assented, 'we deplore the loss of Mr. Bulmer's company. Yet as matters stand —'
'But they are in love with each other,' the Duchess pointed out, with a sorry little laugh. 'Can you not see that, my friend?'
'Hein?' said the Marquis; 'why, then, it is doubly important that Mr. Bulmer be hanged as soon as possible.' He reached for the gong, but Claire had begun to speak.
'I am not at all in love with him! You are of a profound imbecility, Helene. I think he is a detestable person, because he always looks at you as if he saw something extremely ridiculous, but was too polite to notice it. He is invariably making me suspect I have a smut on my nose. But in spite of that, I consider him a very pleasant old gentleman, and I will not have him hanged!' With which ultimatum she stamped her foot.
'Yes, madame,' said the Marquis, critically; 'after all, she is in love with him. That is unfortunate, is it not, for Milor Ormskirk,—and even for Achille Cazaio,' he added, with a shrug.
'I fail to see,' a dignified young lady stated, 'what Cazaio, at least, has to do with your galimatias.'
'Simply that I received this morning a letter demanding you be surrendered to Cazaio,' de Soyecourt
