At Herrick's summons the man in the cassock came and took Jean to the street door again, closing it gently behind him without a word.
It was quite dark now, and the dim lamps at intervals only served to cast deep, gloomy shadows across the Rue St. Romain. The dwarf stood still for some moments, looking up and down the street, and his sharp eyes searched the shadows. He was not certain, but one particular spot did not satisfy him; he thought a man stood there. He expected to be watched and followed, for he had little faith in Father Bertrand. Jean was even surprised with himself for believing Roger Herrick so easily, for he placed small reliance on any man's disinterestedness. He moved away slowly, and was soon aware that he had not been mistaken, that he was being followed.
"He must know Vayenne well if he hopes to keep me in sight," chuckled the dwarf to himself as he turned sharply into a narrow alley and began the task of losing his enemy. For half an hour he dodged round corners, up dark alleys, and across small streets, returning at the end of that time to a spot close to the Rue St. Romain; and he chuckled to think of the dance he had led his follower.
Mercier did know Vayenne well, however, he was perhaps the very last man in the city to be deceived by such tactics, and no sooner had the dwarf set out on a more direct route, than he came from a turning and went after him.
Jean was crossing one of the larger streets, which was well lighted, on his way to the Place Beauvoisin, when half a dozen soldiers suddenly caught sight of him.
"Well met, Jean," cried one, grasping his arm. "Where have you been roosting? The Count has been sending everywhere to find you to-day and yesterday."
"For what?"
"Nobody knows why—maybe to make a captain of you. But this we know, that he's promised silver enough to the man that finds you to pay for a merry night at the tavern. So you must come with us."
"That's certain," answered one of his companions, taking Jean's other arm.