worst. Just when Gonzague, after all
his failures to trace the missing child of his victim, just when he had
so ingeniously found a substitute for that missing child, it would really
seem as if the child herself, now a woman, had come to Paris to defy him
and to destroy his plans. He sat huddled with black thoughts for a time
which seemed to him an age, but was in reality not more than a few
moments; then, extending his hand, he struck a bell and a servant
entered.
"Tell Peyrolles I want him," the prince commanded, and was again alone
with his dreads and his dangers until Peyrolles appeared. Gonzague turned
to his factotum. "I have reason to suspect that Lagardere is in Paris. If
it be true, he will come too late. The princess will have accepted the
gypsy as her child, the mother's voice will have spoken. If Lagardere is
in Paris, he and the girl must be found, and once found--"
The ivory-like face of Peyrolles was quickened with a cunning look. "I
have a man who will find him if any one can."
Gonzague turned upon him sharply. "Who is it?"
"Monseigneur," said Peyrolles, "I have at my disposal, and at the
disposal of your highness, a very remarkable man, the hunchback AEsop. He
was in the moat of Caylus that night. He, with those two you saw
yesterday, are the only ones left, except--"
Peyrolles paused for a moment, and his pale face worked uncomfortably.
Gonzague interpreted his thought. "Except you and me, you were going to
say."
Peyrolles nodded gloomily. "As AEsop," he said, "has been in Spain all
these years hunting Lagardere--"
"Yes," Gonzague interrupted, "and never finding him."
Peyrolles bowed. "True, your highness, but at least up to now he has kept
Lagardere on the Spanish side of the frontier, kept Lagardere in peril of
his life. AEsop hates Lagardere, always has hated him. When the last of
our men met with"--he paused for a moment as if to find a fitting phrase,
and then continued--"the usual misfortune, I thought it useless to leave
AEsop in Spain, and sent for him. He came to me to-day. May I present him
to your highness?"
Gonzague nodded thoughtfully. Any ally was welcome in such a crisis.
"Yes," he said.
Peyrolles went to the door that communicated with the prince's private
apartments, and, opening it, beckoned into the corridor. Then he drew
back into the room, and a moment later was followed by a hunchbacked man
in black, who wore a large sword. The man bowed profoundly to the Pri
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