Lord Tony’s Wife Baroness Orczy (story read aloud .TXT) 📖

of puzzlement she dismissed very quickly from her mind. Was she not taking everything on trust? Indeed hope and confidence had a very firm hold on her at last. VI The Rat Mort I

The guide had stepped out of the house into the street, Yvonne following closely on his heels. The night was very dark and the narrow little Carrefour de la Poissonnerie very sparsely lighted. Somewhere overhead on the right, something groaned and creaked persistently in the wind. A little further on a street lantern was swinging aloft, throwing a small circle of dim, yellowish light on the unpaved street below. By its fitful glimmer Yvonne could vaguely perceive the tall figure of her guide as he stepped out with noiseless yet firm tread, his shoulder brushing against the side of the nearest house as he kept closely within the shadow of its high wall. The sight of his broad back thrilled her. She had fallen to imagining whether this was not perchance that gallant and all-powerful Scarlet Pimpernel himself: the mysterious friend of whom her dear milor so often spoke with an admiration that was akin to worship. He too was probably tall and broad⁠—for English gentlemen were usually built that way; and Yvonne’s overexcited mind went galloping on the wings of fancy, and in her heart she felt that she was glad that she had suffered so much, and then lived through such a glorious moment as this.

Now from the narrow unpaved yard in front of the house the guide turned sharply to the right. Yvonne could only distinguish outlines. The streets of Nantes were familiar to her, and she knew pretty well where she was. The lantern inside the clock tower of Le Bouffay guided her⁠—it was now on her right⁠—the house wherein she had been kept a prisoner these past three days was built against the walls of the great prison house. She knew that she was in the Carrefour de la Poissonnerie.

She felt neither fatigue nor cold, for she was wildly excited. The keen northwesterly wind searched all the weak places in her worn clothing and her thin shoes were wet through. But her courage up to this point had never once forsaken her. Hope and the feeling of freedom gave her marvellous strength, and when her guide paused a moment ere he turned the angle of the high wall and whispered hurriedly: “You have courage, my lady?” she was able to answer serenely: “In plenty, sir.”

She tried to peer into the darkness in order to realise whither she was being led. The guide had come to a halt in front of the house which was next to that of Louise Adet: it projected several feet in front of the latter: the thing that had creaked so weirdly in the wind turned out to be a painted sign, which swung out from an iron bracket fixed into the wall. Yvonne could not read the writing on the sign, but she noticed that just above it there was a small window dimly lighted from within.

What sort of a house it was Yvonne could not, of course, see. The frontage was dark save for narrow streaks of light which peeped through the interstices of the door and through the chinks of ill-fastened shutters on either side. Not a sound came from within, but now that the guide had come to a halt it seemed to Yvonne⁠—whose nerves and senses had become preternaturally acute⁠—that the whole air around her was filled with muffled sounds, and when she stood still and strained her ears to listen she was conscious right through the inky blackness of vague forms⁠—shapeless and silent⁠—that glided past her in the gloom.

II

“Your friends will meet you here,” the guide whispered as he pointed to the door of the house in front of him. “The door is on the latch. Push it open and walk in boldly. Then gather up all your courage, for you will find yourself in the company of poor people, whose manners are somewhat rougher than those to which you have been accustomed. But though the people are uncouth, you will find them kind. Above all you will find that they will pay no heed to you. So I entreat you do not be afraid. Your friends would have arranged for a more refined place wherein to come and find you, but as you may well imagine they had no choice.”

“I quite understand, sir,” said Yvonne quietly, “and I am not afraid.”

“Ah! that’s brave!” he rejoined. “Then do as I tell you. I give you my word that inside that house you will be perfectly safe until such time as your friends are able to get to you. You may have to wait an hour, or even two; you must have patience. Find a quiet place in one of the corners of the room and sit there quietly, taking no notice of what goes on around you. You will be quite safe, and the arrival of your friends is only a question of time.”

“My friends, sir?” she said earnestly, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke, “are you not one of the most devoted friends I can ever hope to have? I cannot find the words now wherewith to thank you, but⁠ ⁠…”

“I pray you do not thank me,” he broke in gruffly, “and do not waste time in parleying. The open street is none too safe a place for you just now. The house is.”

His hand was on the latch and he was about to push open the door, when Yvonne stopped him with a word.

“My father?” she whispered with passionate entreaty. “Will you help him too?”

“M. le duc de Kernogan is as safe as you are, my lady,” he replied. “He will join you anon. I pray you have no fears for him. Your friends are caring for him in the same way as they care for you.”

“Then I shall