The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [107]
Above the altar and beneath the portrait, was the casket which held the diamond studs. The Duke approached the altar, kneeled as a priest might have knelt before a crucifix, and then opened the casket. From it he drew a large bow of blue ribbon sparkling with diamonds:
“Here,” he said, “here are these precious diamonds with which I had vowed to be buried. The Queen gave them to me, the Queen requires their return. So be it. Her will be done, like that of God, in all things.”
Slowly, one after the other, he kissed the beloved studs with which he must reluctantly part. Suddenly he uttered a terrible cry.
“What is it, Milord?” D’Artagnan exclaimed anxiously. “What is the matter?”
“The matter?” Buckingham winced; he was shaking like a leaf.
“Milord, what—?”
“All is lost!”
“But—?”
“Two of the studs are missing. There are only ten here!”
“Can you have lost them, Milord? Do you think they have been stolen?”
“They have been stolen and the Cardinal is responsible. Look, the ribbons which held them have been cut with scissors.”
“If they were stolen—if Milord suspects anyone—perhaps that person still has them—”
“Wait, wait!” cried the Duke. “The only time I wore these studs was at a ball given by the King at Windsor a week ago. Lady Winter, with whom I once had a falling out, stood beside me quite long as we made up our differences. Yes, that’s it! That reconciliation was nothing but a jealous woman’s revenge. I have not laid eyes on her since. That woman is an agent of the Cardinal’s.”
“Then he has agents all over the world?”
“Yes, yes, everywhere.” Buckingham gnashed his teeth with rage. “He is a terrible enemy.” There was a long silence. Then, passionately: “Tell me, when is this ball in Paris to take place?”
“Next Monday.”
“Next Monday. Five days from now. Ah, we have time and time aplenty!” Flinging open the door: “Patrick!” he called, “Patrick!”
Imperturbable, as though he had not left the spot, Patrick stood at attention by the doorway.
“Patrick, send for my jeweler and my secretary!”
The promptness with which the servant withdrew bore eloquent testimony to his discretion and obedience. Buckingham had mentioned the jeweler first but the secretary was the first to appear because he lived in the ducal mansion. He found Buckingham seated at a table in his bedroom, writing orders in his own hand.
“Jackson,” said the Duke, “you will call upon the Lord Chancellor immediately and inform him that I commit these orders to him for execution. I wish them to be issued forthwith.”
“But Your Grace, if the Lord Chancellor asks me what reasons prompted you to adopt such an extraordinary measure, what shall I answer?”
“Tell him that such is my good pleasure and that I account for my pleasure to no man.”
The secretary smiled:
“Is My Lord Chancellor to forward this reply to the King if His Majesty should happen to inquire why no vessel of his is to leave any British port?”
“Very well, Jackson!” Buckingham drew a deep breath. “Should His Majesty so inquire, the Lord Chancellor is to reply that I am determined on war and that this measure is my first act of hostility against France.”
The secretary bowed and retired.
“Well, we are safe on that score,” Buckingham said jauntily. “If the studs have not yet left for France they will not arrive before you.”
“How so, Milord?”
“I have just clapped an embargo on all vessels at present in His Majesty’s ports. Without express permission not one of them can weigh anchor!”
D’Artagnan stared with stupefaction at this man who, invested with unlimited power by his sovereign, was thus abusing the royal confidence to serve his amours. D’Artagnan’s expression was so candid that Buckingham could not fail to read his thoughts. He smiled.
“Yes, yes!” he said impetuously, “Anne of Austria is my true Queen. At one word from her, I would betray my country,