M. de Biron gazed at him a moment without speaking, as if he pondered on the answer he should give. At length he nodded, and rang the bell which stood beside him.
“The mask!” he muttered in a low voice as footsteps sounded without. And, obedient to the hint, Tavannes disguised himself. A second later the officer who had introduced him opened the door and entered.
“Peridol,” M. de Biron said—he had risen to his feet—“I have received a message which needs confirmation; and to obtain this I must leave the Arsenal. I am going to the house—you will remember this—of Marshal Tavannes, who will be responsible for my person; in the mean time this gentleman will remain under strict guard in the south chamber upstairs. You will treat him as a hostage, with all respect, and will allow him to preserve his incognito. But if I do not return by noon to-morrow, you will deliver him to the men below, who will know how to deal with him.”
Count Hannibal made no attempt to interrupt him, nor did he betray the discomfiture which he undoubtedly felt. But as the Grand Master paused—
“M. de Biron,” he said, in a voice harsh and low, “you will answer to me for this!” And his eyes glittered through the slits in the mask.
“Possibly, but not to-day or to-morrow!” Biron replied, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously. “Peridol! see the gentleman bestowed as I have ordered, and then return to me. Monsieur,” with a bow, half courteous, half ironical, “let me commend to you the advantages of silence and your mask.” And he waved his hand in the direction of the door.
A moment Count Hannibal hesitated. He was in the heart of a hostile fortress where the resistance of a single man armed to the teeth must have been futile; and he was unarmed, save for a poniard. Nevertheless, for a
