"Murdered them, Sir Knight! I do murder? I, a Christian and a man of peace! Never! And the noble lord of Cattrina, Count de Noyon! Why, he wished to marry the lady, not to murder her. indeed he swore that she was his wife."
"So you know all these things, do you, villain?" said Grey ****, shaking him as a terrier shakes a rat.
"Sir Knight," went on the frightened fellow, "blame me not for the acts of God. He slew these noble persons, not I; I myself saw the lovely lady carried from this house wrapped in a red cloak."
"So you were in the house, were you?" said Grey ****, shaking him again. "Well, whither did they carry her, thief of the night?"
"To the plague pit, good sir; where else in these times?"
Now Hugh groaned aloud, his eyes closed, and he seemed as though he were about to fall. Grey ****, noting it, for a moment let go of the notary and turned as though to help his master. Like a flash Basil drew a dagger from under his dirty robe and struck at ****'s back. The blow was well aimed, nor could an unprotected man on whom it fell have escaped death. But although Basil did not see it because of ****'s long cloak, beneath this cloak he wore the best of mail, and on that mail the slender dagger broke, its point falling harmless to the ground. Next instant **** had him again in his iron grip. Paying no further heed to Hugh, who had sunk to the floor a huddled heap, he began to speak into the lawyer's ear in his slow, hissing voice.
"Devil," he said, "whether or no you murdered Red Eve and Sir Andrew Arnold the saint, I cannot say for certain, though doubtless I shall learn in time. At least a while ago you who had taken our money, strove to murder both of us, or cause us to be torn in pieces upon yonder square where the fires burned. Now, too, you have striven to murder me with that bodkin of yours, not knowing, fool, that I am safe from all men. Well, say your prayers, since you too journey to the plague pit, for so the gatherers of the dead will think you died."
"Sir," gasped the terrified wretch, "spare me and I will speak----"
"More lies," hissed **** into his ear. "Nay, go tell them to the father of lies, for I have no time to waste in hearkening to them.
Take your pay, traitor!"
A few seconds later Basil lay dead upon the floor.
Grey **** looked at him. Kneeling down, he thrust his hands into the man's pockets, and took thence the gold that he had been hiding away when they came upon him, no small sum as it chanced.
"Our own come back with interest," he said with one of his silent laughs, "and we shall need monies for our faring. Why, here's a writing also which may tell those who can read it something."
He cast it on the table, then turned to his master, who was awakening from his swoon.
**** helped him to his feet.
"What has passed?" asked Hugh in a hollow voice.
"Murgh!" answered ****, pointing to the dead man on the floor.
"Have you killed him, friend?"
"Ay, sure enough, as he strove to kill me," and again he pointed, this time to the broken dagger.
Hugh made no answer, only seeing the writing on the table, took it up, and began to read like one who knows not what he does. Presently his eyes brightened and he said:
"What does this mean, I wonder. Hearken."
"Rogue, you have cheated me as you cheat all men and now I follow her who has gone. Be sure, however, that you shall reap your reward in due season.
"de Noyon."
"I know not," said ****, "and the interpreter is silent," and he kicked the body of Basil. "Perhaps I was a little over hasty who might have squeezed the truth out of him before the end."
"'Her who is gone,'" reflected Hugh aloud. "'Tis Red Eve who is gone and de Noyon is scarcely the man to seek her among passed souls.
Moreover, the Jews swear that he rode from Avignon two days ago. Come, ****, let that carrion lie, and to the plague pit."
An hour later and they stood on the edge of that dreadful place, hearing and seeing things which are best left untold. A priest came up to them, one of those good men who, caring nothing for themselves, still dared to celebrate the last rites of the Church above the poor departed.
"Friends," he said, "you seem to be in trouble. Can I help you, for Jesus' sake?"
"Perchance, holy Father," answered Hugh. "Tell us, you who watch this dreadful place, was a woman wrapped in a red cloak thrown in here two or three days gone?"
"Alas, yes," said the priest with a sigh, "for I read the Office over her and others. Nay, what are you about to do? By now she is two fathoms deep and burned away with lime so that none could know her. If you enter there the guards will not let you thence living. Moreover, it is useless. Pray to God to comfort you, poor man, as I will, who am sure it will not be denied."
Then **** led, or rather carried, Hugh from the brink of that awesome, common grave.
