The Count watched him as he went across the court-yard.
"Think you he is as great a fool as he seems, father?" he asked, turning to the priest.
"The crooked body may hold some wisdom which is beyond us. He may have visions."
"Even straight-limbed men have," was the answer. "Tell me, why did you come to visit the prisoner last night?"
"To make certain he was a spy. I know the breed, Count," said the priest.
"I would he were swinging over the gate yonder," said Felix.
"Ay; spy or no spy, it would have pleased the populace," said Bertrand.
"And served as a warning," returned the Count. "We shall have all sorts of wastrels begging favors of the new Duke."
"True. He may be made of sterner stuff than we imagine." And the Count re-entered the castle.
"I trust not," muttered Father Bertrand as he went back to the lodging of the wounded sentry. "Pliability will suit us best just now, and a character which lacks resolution. Then----" His lips moved, but no uttered words came. He walked slowly, with eyes on the ground. Perchance he prayed silently.
Count Felix went back to his room, and sat there waiting. His attitude was expectant, and he listened for the shouting that might come in the city streets, for footsteps at the door which would surely come soon. He looked for a long time at a paper on his table--a list of names. He read each name carefully, calling to memory the man as he read it.
"Cut-throats all," he muttered, and then he laughed a little. "Why, the making carrion of them will bring me thanks. Gaspard Lemasle--he is different. He is ambitious. I must find a place for Gaspard Lemasle where he will easily make enemies. They shall destroy him."
Time passed slowly. The Duke was certainly late.
"Perhaps he refused to come," Felix murmured. "No; Christine would see to that. They cannot have failed; it was so easy a task."
The hours wore on toward dusk--long hours for those in the streets, for those in the castle, for Count Felix. The courtiers wondered and speculated. The Count's face was imperturbable. He had a dozen reasons to give for the delay. He gave them to friend and foe alike. No one hurried along the corridors, there was no need; all that could be done had been done. They could only wait and listen.