Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,93

was no time for explanations, but this second of astonishment was all that Leprat required.

Pushing the pistol to one side, he swiftly kneed Biscarat in the belly and knocked him out with a right hook to the head, catching the man as he fell to prevent any further injury. Then he relieved him of his scarlet cape and put it on before venturing back out of the stable.

He quickly made his way across the courtyard, beneath the lanterns, moving towards the main building of the inn.

Rauvin had fled and, under the cover of night, would no doubt evade capture, but Mirebeau appeared to be trapped. While the fate of the first man was of little concern to him, Leprat could not permit the second to be arrested. The gentleman in the beige doublet was the only means he had of becoming involved in the duchesse de Chevreuse's schemes. Leprat was thus forced to rescue Mirebeau, even if it meant thwarting Rochefort and inflicting some blows and injuries on His Eminence's Guards.

The success of his mission depended on it.

With a resolute step, Leprat approached the row of curious onlookers who had gathered before the door of the main building and, lowering his hat to conceal his eyes, he passed through them with an authoritative air.

'Make way! Make way!'

The red cape was impressive and a passage was cleared for him.

Inside, dozens of torches lit an immense hall thai rose to the rafters. Twenty tables were set out on a dirt floor scattered with straw. A gallery ran along the rear wall, with a corridor and several doors on the first storey, which was accessible via two staircases that climbed the walls on either side. The hall was packed and noisy, to the point that it was impossible to be heard without raising one's voice, or to move without sidling and shouldering past people. The crowd here was the same as in the courtyard: soldiers and non-commissioned officers, prostitutes and serving wenches, plus a few debauched gentlemen. Almost everyone was on their feet protesting. The sound of a brawl coming from one of the chambers, followed by that of a breaking window and gunfire, had initially caused confusion. The appearance of the Guards in their capes and the prohibition of anyone entering or leaving the premises had then started to worry some of those present and to anger others.

Rochefort had in fact given orders to seal all the exits from the building. He was descending one of the stairways from the gallery when Leprat entered, and two guards armed with short muskets immediately took up post in front of the doors. The musketeer congratulated himself on not having delayed any longer. He didn't know how he was going to get out, but at least he had managed to slip inside without hindrance.

'Place more guards here at the bottom of these stairs!' ordered Rochefort. 'And where is Biscarat?

Somebody go find Biscarat! There were three of them!'

Merely one more red cape among all the others, Leprat shoved his way through the crowd while keeping his chin down. He chose the stairs opposite those Rochefort had taken, arrived at the bottom of the steps where three guards were standing and walked brazenly past them, helped by the fact that their eyes were fixed on the angry crowd. The inn was full of soldiers and gentlemen who did not appreciate being locked inside. Emboldened by wine, some were just waiting for a chance to have a go at the cardinal's representatives, who were almost universally detested throughout the kingdom.

With the exception of Rochefort, who followed his progress with a frowning gaze, Leprat reached the gallery without

attracting anyone's attention. Then he walked along the corridor where a guard was posted in front of a door.

Why keep watch on a door, unless Mirebeau was being held prisoner behind it?

Still walking with the assured step of someone who knows where he is going and who has every right to be there, while keeping his chin tucked in so that the brim of his hat concealed the top of his face, Leprat was relying on the scarlet cape to work its magic. He advanced and, at the last minute, surprised the guard by brandishing the pistol he had stolen from Biscarat. Then he forced him to turn round and roughly pushed him against the wall.

'Open the door,' he demanded.

'Impossible.'

'Where's the key?'

'Rochefort.'

Leprat cursed but did take long to reach a decision. He knocked out the guard with a blow from his pistol