"Nor want to," Felix answered.
"See and hear them, eh, Father Bertrand?" Jean chuckled. "All the dead dukes who lie there, straight or with their feet crossed, have secrets to tell, and I listen. In the night St. Etienne is peopled with ghosts, and the great organ sings low to them, brave music, telling of great deeds done long ago, and of love that flowers and ripens into fruit beyond this world's time. Some day you'll hear it, only you'll have to lie under a stone effigy first, and maybe you'll tell me all your secrets then. I'll go and watch for the Duke, who is strangely late in coming."
The dwarf waddled across the court-yard, and presently passed out of the little postern beside the great gates. The soldiers laughed at him often, but none questioned his goings and comings. There was an old wife's tale among them that the presence of an innocent was lucky, and Jean had wit enough to be of service sometimes. He had carried a love message before now, and sometimes demanded that payment should take the form of a kiss from the maid. It amused him to see how reluctantly the debt was liquidated.
Outside the castle he went at a slower pace.
"One," he said, holding up a finger—"one, the poor sentry saw nothing, therefore I am still free to come and go. Two, the Count is clever making all this show for a Duke he never expects to arrive. Three," and he held up another finger for each number—"three, he's a fool because he thinks I'm a fool. Four, my uncanny talk of ghosts makes him shiver, so there's something of the coward in him somewhere. Five, the Duke is long in coming; has friend Roger failed, I wonder? I'll go and see what the crowd thinks of the new Duke. Truly he is coming to no rosebed, if the Count is to have a hand in the making of it."
The Count watched him as he went across the court-yard.
"Think you he is as great a fool as he seems, father?" he asked, turning to the priest.
"The crooked body may hold some wisdom which is beyond us. He may have visions."
"Even straight-limbed men have," was the answer. "Tell me, why did you come to visit the prisoner last night?"
"To make certain he was a spy. I know the breed, Count," said the priest.