"I doubt that," answered La Fargue. "But the cardinal may know more than he has let on."
"So what are we to believe? And who?"
"Ourselves. We only believe in ourselves."
"That's a tune I've heard sung before. , . ."
"I know."
"Back to the matter at hand," prompted Leprat, seeing that the company was tehashing its shared bad memories. "If the Black Claw is, like us, searching for the chevalier d'Ireban, it is no doubt because he is something more than the debauched son of a Spanish grandee."
"That much, we already guessed," interjected Marciac.
"So then, who is he?"
"Perhaps he and Castilla belonged to the Black Claw. If they betrayed it, they had every reason to flee Spain and seek refuge in France, where the Black Claw still enjoys little influence."
"If the Black Claw were after me," observed Almades in a grim tone, "I would not stop running until I reached the West Indies. And even then, I would stay on my guard."
"Castilla and Ireban might have less good sense than you, Anibal. . . ."
"I'll grant you that."
"We still need to know," said Leprat, "what information the Black Claw wanted from Castilla and whether or not they obtained it."
"If he hadn't talked we would have found a dead body," asserted La Fargue. "Judging by his sad state, he resisted as long as he could. He therefore had some important secrets to hide."
"Perhaps he was trying to protect Ireban."
"Or Cecile," suggested Ballardieu, who until then had remained quiet.
His remark gave rise to a pause. To some degree or other, all of them had noticed the curious attitude La Fargue seemed to have adopted with regard to the young woman. Anyone else in similar circumstances would have been closely questioned by the Blades. But it was as if the captain wished to spare her for some obscure reason.
La Fargue understood the silent reproach being directed at him by his men.
"Very well," he said, assuming his responsibilities. "Where is she?"
"As far as I know," said Marciac, "she's still in her room."
"Fetch her."
The Gascon was leaving by one door when Guibot knocked at another. Almades opened it for him.
"Monsieur de Saint-Lucq is waiting in the courtyard," said the old man.
11
There was a coach in the courtyard of the Hotel de Malicorne, waiting to depart, when Gagniere arrived at a gallop.
"Madame!" he called out as the vicomtesse, dressed in a travelling cloak with a short cape, was about to climb through the coach door held open for her by a lackey. "Madame!" Surprised, the young woman paused. She had the casket containing the Sphere d'Ame under her arm. She proffered it to a man sitting inside the vehicle, of whom the marquis saw no more than his gloved hands, saying: "Don't open it."
Then turning to Gagniere, she asked: "Where are your manners, marquis... ?"
The gentleman dismounted, and unsure who was inside the coach, said in a confidential tone: "I beg you to forgive me, madame. But circumstances demand that I forgo the usual formalities."
"I am listening, monsieur."
"We have Pontevedra's daughter."
Gagniere's eyes shone with excitement. The vicomtesse, on the other hand, manifested nothing more than a cautious wariness.
"Really?"
"She fell into our hands by returning to her home at the very moment when Savelda happened to be there as well. The souls of the Ancestral Dragons are watching over us, madame!"
"No doubt, yes. . . . Where is she at present?"
"With Savelda."
The vicomtesse winced.
As the ambassador extraordinary of the king of Spain, the comte de Pon-tevedra was negotiating a rapprochement with France which the Black Claw opposed. With that in mind, his daughter constituted a choice prey. A prey that should be preserved intact.
"When the Grand Lodge of Spain learns that Pontevedra's daughter is in our hands," said the young woman, "it will lay claim to her. We must therefore hide her in a secure place, outside Paris; somewhere no one will be able to reach her without passing through us."
She thought for a moment and decreed: "Have Savelda conduct her without delay to the Chateau de Torain."
"Today?" asked Gagniere, alarmed, "But, madame—"
"Do it."
The man in the coach then spoke up, still without revealing himself: "It was at Pontevedra's express request that the cardinal called up the Blades.. . ."
The vicomtesse smiled.
She privately reflected that it was in her power to, sooner or later, wreck Pontevedra's diplomatic mission by threatening his daughter's life. But the same means could be used to a different, more immediate, end. It would, moreover, be an opportunity to measure the depth of the ambassador's paternal feelings.
"Let us send word to Pontevedra that we hold his daughter and that if he wishes to see her again alive, he must provide us with some tokens of his good will. The first is to persuade Richelieu to recall his Blades as of today. That will remove a thorn from our foot."
"And who shall carry this news to Pontevedra?" asked Gagniere.
The vicomtesse thought for a moment and an idea came to her.