" I rose and moved to the door.
"Order Gilles to beat their brains out," was Ganymede's merciful
suggestion.
I shook my head. "We might be detained for doing murder. We have
no proof yet of their intentions - I think - " An idea flashed
suddenly across my mind. "Go back to your room, Ganymede," I bade
him. "Lock yourself in, and do not stir until I call you. I do
not wish their suspicions aroused."
I opened the door, and as Ganymede obediently slipped past me and
vanished down the passage "Monsieur l'Hote," I called. "Ho, there,
Gilles!"
"Monsieur," answered the landlord.
"Monseigneur," replied Gilles; and there came a stir below.
"Is aught amiss?" the landlord questioned, a note of concern in his
voice.
"Amiss?" I echoed peevishly, mincing my words as I uttered them.
"Pardi! Must I be put to it to undress myself, whilst those two
lazy dogs of mine are snoring beneath me? Come up this instant,
Gilles. And," I added as an afterthought, "you had best sleep here
in my room."
"At once, monseigneur," answered he, but I caught the faintest
tinge of surprise in his accents, for never yet had it fallen to
the lot of sturdy, clumsy Gilles to assist me at my toilet.
The landlord muttered something, and I heard Gilles whispering his
reply. Then the stairs creaked under his heavy tread.
In my room I told him in half a dozen words what was afoot. For
answer, he swore a great oath that the landlord had mulled a stoup
of wine for him, which he never doubted now was drugged.
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