man, that before daybreak three gibbets, with a ladder and two ropes apiece, are set up in the square. And let one be before this door. You understand? Then let it be done! The rest,” he added with a ferocious smile, “you may leave to me.”
The magistrate nodded rather feebly. “Doubtless,” he said, his eye wandering here and there, “there are rogues in Angers. And for rogues the gibbet! But saving your presence, my lord, it is a question whether”
But M. de Tavannes’ patience was exhausted. “Will you do it?” he roared. “That is the question. And the only question.”
The Provost jumped, he was so startled. “Certainly, my lord, certainly!” he muttered humbly. “Certainly, I will!” And bowing frequently, but saying no more, he backed himself out of the room.
Count Hannibal laughed grimly after his fashion, and doubtless thought that he had seen the last of the magistrate for that night. Great was his wrath, therefore, when, less than a minute later—and before Bigot had carved for him—the door opened, and the Provost appeared again. He slid in, and without giving the courage he had gained on the stairs time to cool, plunged into his trouble.
“It stands this way, M. le Comte,” he bleated. “If I put up the gibbets and a man is hanged, and you have letters from the King, ’tis a rogue the less, and no harm done. But if you have no letters from His Majesty, then it is on my shoulders they will put it, and ’twill be odd if they do not find a way to hang me to right him.”
Count Hannibal smiled grimly. “And your sister’s son?” he sneered. “And your girl who is white-faced for his sake, and may burn on the same bonfire with him? And”
“Mercy! Mercy!” the wretched Provost cried. And he wrung his hands. “Lescot and Thuriot”
