CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JUSTICE

Lord Winter received the message carried by Planchet in good time for him to have a watch kept for Milady at all the southern ports of England.

On arrival Milady was arrested immediately and imprisoned, with the Duke of Buckingham's consent, in one of Lord Winter's own castles. Little did Lord Winter realize what kind of woman was Milady. Had he known he would never have let her out of his sight for five minutes. He would have chained her hand and foot to a wall. He would have kept the keys of her cell himself.

In less than a week Milady escaped from her prison together with her jailer, Mr. Felton, a young ex-naval officer. At dawn on the day following her escape she was on board ship bound for France.

Lord Winter had put Felton in sole charge of the fair captive. The jailer's duty was to supervise her meals personally, see that the guards were changed every two hours, and keep the keys of her cell always in his possession. Milady soon discovered that Felton hated the Duke of Buckingham like poison, because, for some reason, he had opposed his promotion in the navy and eventually forced him to serve ashore. She quickly fanned this hatred into flame. By means of wicked lies she pretended that she, too, was one of the Duke's victims. Her story was that she had been brought to England by means of a trick, trapped, and falsely imprisoned at the Duke's orders because she had refused to marry him. The Duke was clearly preparing to torture her into consenting.

Her beauty, her tears, her lies, rapidly gained for her the young jailer's sympathy, and he himself was soon blindly in love with his pretty prisoner. After this it did not take her long to convince him that by killing the infamous Duke, he would be doing a noble deed. He would save the honour of a helpless; innocent maiden, and at the same time free England of a cruel, unjust man.

There was a delay of some hours before Lord Winter was informed of her escape and the strange absence of Felton. News was immediately sent to Buckingham to warn him of his danger. But it was too late; the murderer, Felton, had already committed his terrible crime. Thus, in spite of her imprisonment, Milady had fulfilled her mission. She was as guilty of the crime as if the fatal knife had been held by her hand.

That same day Lord Winter sailed for France in pursuit of Milady. It was not difficult for him to trace the movements of such a beautiful looking traveller who paid in gold for services at the various inns at which she stopped. Arriving at Béthune, he just missed her; she had already left for Armentieres. But, as if by the hand of fate, he met Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan who happened to be at Béthune on private business. Lord Winter told them of all that had happened.

"So you see," said he. "Steps must be taken to arrest and punish this wicked woman as soon as possible. It is a duty I must fulfil, since I have recently discovered that it was she who caused the death of my brother by poisoning him."

That night a storm arose, but in spite of the heavy rain, Athos went out alone into the darkness and paid a mysterious visit in the village. The start for Armentieres the next morning was delayed a short while until the arrival of a tall man, masked, and wearing a long red cloak. Who he was none but Athos knew. Athos, who was now in charge of the party, did not introduce him, and so no questions were asked. They all rode off in silence through the deep mud and heavy rain.

Late that evening the pursuit of Milady ended at Armentieres. Her trial was held immediately without the usual formalities, the witnesses being Athos, Porthos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, Lord Winter and the tall masked man. Judgment was passed—death at the hands of the Public Executioner.

It was approaching midnight when the party set out with Milady on the last journey she would take in this world. The storm had died away as if even nature were satisfied at last that justice was to be done. The waning moon, hardly more than a crescent, appeared red—blood-red—in the last traces of the passing storm, as it hung low in the sky. Against the background of pale light the dark outline of the houses of Armentieres could just be distinguished.

A short distance in front of the silent party flowed slowly the sullen waters of the Lys, like a river of lead. On the farther bank was outlined a mass of trees against a sky still half-filled with broken clouds, reflecting the light of the moon and creating a sort of eerie twilight.

In a field on the left of the road stood an old abandoned windmill with one gaunt, motionless sail pointing upwards, for all the world like a gigantic accusing finger. From the ruins a solitary owl gave out its mournful, monotonous cry at intervals. On the right and the left of the road, along which the dismal group passed, the bushes and stunted trees seemed like deformed dwarfs, watching with inquisitive eyes those who dared to be out at night at this sinister hour.

At intervals with startling suddenness a broad sheet of lightning illuminated the horizon, along its whole width. It darted back and forth over the black mass of trees, and like a flashing sword separated the heavens from all contact with the earth. Not a breath of air disturbed the cool, rain-washed atmosphere, and a death-like silence hung over all. The earth was water-laden and glittered with drops of rain that had recently fallen. The refreshed bushes and grass gave forth their perfume with additional strength.

When they arrived at the river the party halted. The tall masked man silently bound Milady's hands, placed her in the ferry-boat and, with her, crossed to the opposite bank of the river.

There, outlined in black against a background of light from the moon, the masked man's double-handled sword was seen to rise and fall once as he performed his duty. He was the public executioner and it was he who, eleven years before, had branded Milady with the fleur-de-lis, in the public square of the city of Lille.