Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

overpowered from behind. As he opened his mouth to shout, aclenched fist made contact beneath his chin and the star-shot blacknesshurtled to meet him.

"That was well done indeed," Danny said admiringly to Tony. "Your leftis quite as punishing as Justin's. I had not realized."

"Cease your comparisons, brat," her husband instructed. "Find somethingto bind the man. He will not

be out for long and I think it unlikelythat our quarry will return before the evening."

"Well, we must not make him too uncomfortable," Danielle demurred,rifling St. Estephe's wardrobes

and drawers. "We do not know what kindof man he is, and maybe he is not of the vermin's ilk."

"Unlikely," Justin muttered, catching the hank of rope she threw him."But far be it from me to destroy your faith in human nature."

Danielle gurgled with laughter at the ironic tone and found one of St.Estephe's cravats. "This will do for

a gag, I think."

The manservant was bound, gagged, and rolled into a capacious wardrobe.The apartment yielded bedroom, parlor, a

cabinet de toilette,

and aslip of a room for the servant. Danny's plan was clearly feasible andher companions, despite their reluctance, agreed to hide in the bedroomwhile she waited

for St. Estephe, pistol in hand, in the parlor.

It was a long tedious wait. Citoyenne Gerard reappeared eventually, hotand flushed. The mob, set off

by Julian's firecrackers, had careenedthrough the streets and found a wine barrel toppled from a deliverycart. The blood red liquid jozed from the cracked cask and was seizedwith yells of excitement by a crowd deprived of their expecteddiversion and uixious, therefore, for another. Shoes, hats, and handswere pressed into service in the absence of more utilitarian vessels oscoop the wine into eagerly open mouths. Those lucky enough to live inthe area of this unexpected bounty filled pots ind tankards as the casksplit apart and the wine, in a crimson or rent, ran across the cobblesand into the kennels. Citoyenne Gerard was unable to do more than cursethe absent urchin who had not fulfilled his promise to remain in herplace, before ailing onto her cot and subsiding into a stertorous sleep.

St. Estephe left the Parliament House at six on that evening ofSaturday, April 13. It had been a momentous day. The Jacobin, Marat,had been impeached by the Girondist majority in the Assembly

and St.Estephe's head now clung to his neck by a frail thread. At lastforced to swing down from the fence, he had picked the Jacobins, theparty of Marat and Robespierre. The Girondists for the moment held themajority in the power house, but St. Estephe had felt the strength ofRobespierre, the quiet fanaticism that tugged an empathetic cord.

He had gambled and now it looked as if he had lost. With Marat'sindictment the parliamentary strength of the Girondists stoodundisputed unless the people of Paris decided to take a hand. Theirvoice in the Assembly was the most powerful and the tribunal

extraordinaire

before whichthe impeached Marat

would appear was thevoice of the sovereign people. If they supported the Gironde, thenMarat and all

his associates would lose their heads. If Marat wereacquitted, then the Girondist would go to the guillotine. It was ablack and white game, no compromise, no gray areas. Life, and powerversus death and St. Estephe had declared his hand and could only wait.

But he was a past master at the waiting game and, besides, he had plansfor this evening which would take his mind away from politics andevents that, while highly possible, might never happen. The littleLisette would afford much amusement. She cringed in the most enticingway when he ... His step quickened. Five men of the National Guard,loyal Jacobins, followed at a discreet distance, unwilling

to imposetheir presence on the

citoyen

,but kept their eyes and ears open forthe hint of attack.

Danielle, keeping watch over the courtyard from behind a curtain,alerted her companions as St. Estephe strolled through the gate. Hecast a disgusted glance in the direction of the powerful snoresemanating from the concierge's apartment before mounting the stairs.

"Bernard!" He bellowed for the manservant as his key turned in thelock. Stepping into the room he

found himself facing Danielle de St.Varennes. She was sitting on a low table opposite the door and held

asmall silver-mounted pistol. On the table beside her were two epees—hisown, he recognized dreamily, as his mind fought to adjust itself tothis extraordinary visitation.

"Et bien, ma belle"

hemurmured, "so the bird has come home to roost."

"Indeed," she agreed, unsmiling. "And I am going to see you dead,

Citoyen

."

"I think not," he said softly, moving away from the door. One shoutwould bring the men from below,

but one shout could also precipitatethat steady finger on the trigger.

"Ah, but you are mistaken," Danielle replied. "I do not think I willshoot you, though. You do not

deserve such a clean death."

"Who knows you are here?"

"No one." She chuckled. "This is between ourselves."

"Linton?" He frowned.

Danielle shook her head and again gave that strange disconcertinglittle laugh. "You think,

Citoyen,

that

I would tell my husband of whatpassed between us. I would die rather."

Looking at her, so calm, cool, and unexpected, remembering what she haddone in the past, St. Estephe had no difficulty believing this.Danielle de St. Varennes would never behave in a predictable fashionand would never disclose the humiliation she had endured at his hands.

"D'accord!"

Danielle swungfrom the table. "We fight,

Citoyen.

"Shetossed him an epee as she took up her own.

"And the pistol?" He quirked an eyebrow, bending to pick up the swordthat had fallen at his feet. "I do not care for the odds, youunderstand?"

Danielle placed the pistol on the table and faced him, her sword pointresting on the ground in front of her. "Take off your boots, Citoyen.I'll not have you at a disadvantage."

St. Estephe removed boots and jacket as if in some sort of trance. Shesurely did not imagine