Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,79

friend' and, to that end, was placing at her disposal a French gentleman of no fortune, but 'a devoted, capable man who will know how to render you great services'. This man was in fact the bearer of the letter, Gueret, of whom the queen mother provided a fairly precise physical description. She explained that the man was being sent first to Lorraine and then to Paris, where he would wait every evening at The Bronze Glaive, wearing a opaline ring on his finger, as had already been agreed. The queen mother went on to describe the precarious state of her finances, of which she did not complain for her own sake, but for those who had followed her into exile. And lastly, she concluded with the usual polite formulas.

'Well?' asked La Fargue. 'What do you make of it?'

Leprat pursed his lips.

'This missive hardly deserved to be enciphered.'

'To be sure. But what does it tell us about Gueret?'

The musketeer reflected and, looking for clues, ran his eyes over the letter once again.

'Firstly, that he is an agent of the queen mother as we suspected,' he said. 'And secondly . . .

Secondly, the duchesse de Chevreuse does not know him since the queen mother had to describe him.'

'Very true.'

Leprat, then, understood:

'The portrait of this Gueret could in fact be my very own . . .'

'Yes, it could.'

His chest and feet bare, Marciac lifted the curtain slightly to look down at the street without being seen. Behind him, in the bedchamber, Gabrielle had dressed again and was finishing arranging her hair by the rumpled bed. After an afternoon of passionate lovemaking and tender complicity she would soon have to take her leave of the Gascon. She was the owner and manager of Les Petites Grenouilles, an establishment whose

young and comely boarders made their livings from an essentially nocturnal activity. Their first customers would be arriving soon.

'What are you watching for?' she asked as she placed a last pin in her strawberry-blonde hair.

Although she was beautiful, the attraction she exercised over him owed less to her beauty than to her natural elegance. She could seem cold and haughty, especially when anger lit up her royal blue eyes and a glacial mask slipped over her features. But Marciac knew her doubts, her fears and her weak points. Because she was both the only woman he truly loved and the only one he did not feel obliged to seduce. Even Agnes still had to repel his amorous assaults upon occasion.

'Hmm?' he muttered distractedly.

'I asked, what are you watching out for,' said Gabrielle.

'Nothing.'

His mind was visibly elsewhere and she knew he was lying.

In truth, she even knew what he was observing. Or rather whom. What surprised her, on the other hand, was how little time it took to arouse Marciac's suspicions. He must have been aware of something as soon as he arrived, because they had barely left the bed since then.

She wanted him to think of something else.

'How long have you been back in Paris?'

'A few days . . .'

'You could have paid me a visit sooner, rather than waiting until you were injured.'

Marciac had a bandaged ankle. It was still painful, but no longer prevented him from standing. If he didn't put too much weight on it and granted himself a good night's rest, he could be walking almost normally the following day. And there would be no trace of it at all the day after that.

'Sorry,' he said. 'I've had no free time.'

Gabrielle rose. With a sly smile on her lips, she approached the Gascon and embraced him tenderly from behind, placing her chin upon his shoulder.

'Liar,' she murmured in his ear. 'You were seen at La Sovange's mansion.'

Madame de Sovange maintained, on rue de l'Arbalete in the faubourg Saint-Jacques, a rather famous gambling house.

Now it was Marciac's turn to want a change in the subject of conversation.

'Do you know this individual, standing over there beneath the sign with the head of a dog? The one with the leather hat?'

She barely glanced at the man he was referring to.

'I've never seen him before,' she said, drawing away from the Gascon.

And then she added from the doorway:

'Get dressed and come say hello to the little frogs. They won't stop asking after you until you do.'

'I will.'

Gabrielle departed, leaving Marciac convinced that she was holding something back concerning the man in the leather hat. Peeking out at the street again, he saw the man exchange some words with a newcomer, then walk away, leaving the