monarch

Ponsonby watched Mr. Sewell wake up from the coma with great interest, and slowly opened his small yellow eyes like mice, scanning the surroundings with a blank look.

After about half a minute, Mr. Sewell finally found that his hands and feet were tied up, and his whole body was randomly placed on an armchair like a mummy.

Ponsonby, who looked down at him coldly from the opposite side, watched with satisfaction that his sallow, withered face was stained with a zombie-like gray. Mr. Sewell struggled violently, but the gagged mouth and stiff tongue made him He could only let out a few dull, inhuman hisses, like the desperate panting of a dying beast.The lines of his face framed a masquerade of horror, and the expression gave one the impression that facing him stood Ermenides, the goddess of vengeance, with torch and dagger in hand.

"You don't have to make such an expression." Ponsonby stroked his beard with a smile. "I don't look that scary, do I?" He turned to Cecil on the other side of the room, who was lighting up the lamp. Oil lamps on the mantelpiece.

"Maybe it's because of your beard." Cecil shrugged, "That thing makes you look like the ogre Orcus, you know, the monster that eats human flesh in Etruscan mythology."

"If this is the case, he can rest assured that this old guy looks dry and useless, just like an old bureaucrat who has been sitting in the office for half a century. His flesh is probably as hard as porcelain, and the glass craftsman can even I don't want to lose some of my teeth for cutting glass." Ponsonby said in a mocking and mixed tone.

Mr. Sewell seemed to be trembling even more, and even his eyelids began to tremble nervously, as if he were rolling them all the time.

Cecil went back to the captive in the armchair, "Well, my dear Mr. Sewell, I will now take out the cloth that was stuffed in your mouth. This is a fine handkerchief, so you must It can be seen that we have no malice towards you." He smiled softly, "Or, our malice towards you is far less than what you have towards us, so you can rest assured."

Ponsonby drew a loaded pistol from his belt, and pointed the black muzzle to the innkeeper's face.

"Did you see the gun in my friend's hand?" Cecil pointed to the pistol, "I hope you can maintain a gentleman's demeanor and don't shout, after all, everyone else should be asleep at this time. We don't want to bother them either, right? If you insist on doing something unseemly, like yelling, then my friend has to use that pistol to shut you up."

The hotel owner hurriedly shook his head vigorously, the messy hair was loose and scattered on his forehead.

"That's good." Cecil glanced at Ponsonby inquiringly, saw that he nodded slightly, so he bent down and took out the handkerchief that was stuck in the hotel owner's mouth.

As soon as the gagged handkerchief was removed, the innkeeper began to gasp violently, and for a moment he looked as if he was about to start shouting, but the pistol was clearly more persuasive than the best lawyer or diplomat, Seymour. Mr. Vail shut his mouth knowingly.

Cecil pulled a chair and sat across from the hotel owner, "Now, let's talk. You showed up in our room in the middle of the night with a dagger in your hand. I don't think you're here to drop by." I guess." He held the dagger that Mr. Sewell had just held in his hand, and played with it lightly, "What exactly do you want to do?"

Mr. Sewell glanced at the interrogator opposite in confusion, and stammered: "I heard movement in the room of the two gentlemen...so I came to see if there is anything I can do for you."

"Holding a dagger?"

"I thought maybe there were thieves in the house...worrying maybe they'd do harm to your lord..."

"So as soon as you entered the room, you stabbed the person on the bed a few times? And your Burgundy wine, which has good ingredients in it." Cecil pointed the tip of the knife at the hotel owner, and the other party's pants A suspicious stain appeared on the face, "This kind of pediatric trick may not be seen by two real nobles, but it can't fool us."

"You say you are a silk merchant, but you can't even tell the texture of my shirt. It's silk from Lyon, not Oriental... Stop playing your tricks here, who are you? Why are you Want to kill us? Please explain to us now."

Mr. Sewell's bloodless lips trembled a few times, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"Are you afraid? Afraid of the person who ordered you?" Cecil held his chin, forced the innkeeper to look at him, and then asked.

The other party didn't answer, but the look of fear on his face obviously acquiesced to what Cecil said.

"Since you want our lives, your master must have told you who sent us." Cecil stuck the dagger to the opponent's neck.

"It is... King Edward..." muttered Mr. Sewell.

"Now that you know, you should understand that the only way out for you now is to seek His Majesty's protection. As long as you are willing to testify against the man behind the scenes who manipulated you, you can get His Majesty's protection." Cecil said.

Mr. Sewell's eyeballs began to move rapidly again, obviously still hesitating.

Ponsonby stepped forward, stretched out his arms, and laid the barrel of the gun on the innkeeper's sweaty forehead.

"I'll give you three seconds to make up your mind," he said in a voice that would terrify the bravest of men.

"Okay, okay, I promise you." The innkeeper finally broke down, "But you must ensure my safety, and I also need an amnesty from His Majesty..."

Suddenly there was a "click" sound from the window. It was the sound of a wooden bolt breaking, and the window was pushed open, followed by a gunshot.

The hotel owner screamed. Ponsonby raised his pistol and pulled the trigger out of the window. A black figure disappeared from the window. After a few seconds, there was a dull sound from the ground in the courtyard.

The door was thrown open, and a figure in a black cloak rushed into the room, the muzzle of the pistol in his hand flared, and the projectile flew across the room, shattering a Venetian crystal mirror on the opposite wall.

Seeing that the pistol failed to work, the man quickly reached out and drew a sword from his waist.

Ponsonby pushed Cecil back, and his sword was out of its sheath in an instant, and the edge of the sword was facing the intruder with a cold light.

"Who are you?" he said aloud.

The other party seemed to have no intention of answering, but raised his sword and stabbed straight at Ponsonby.

Ponsonby stood where he was, and when the opponent's sword tip had rushed in front of him, he stabbed the man in black in the face, and the opponent quickly raised his sword to parry.At this time, Pang Senby took a sharp step forward and made a sprint. Before the opponent had time to parry, the sword had already sunk three inches into his chest.

The man in black fell down like a sack full of grain, and by the faint light from the oil lamp, Ponsonby saw blood foam coming out of the corner of his mouth.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of burning gunpowder. Ponsonby shook his head, sighed, and turned to look at Cecil, "How is this guy?" The innkeeper pouted.

"It doesn't look very good," Cecil replied.

Ponsonby went to the bedside table, took a candle from a drawer, and lit it on the flame of an oil lamp which stood on the bedside table.He took the candle, walked up to Mr. Sewell, and illuminated the face of the innkeeper, contorted with fear and pain, with the light of the candle.

"Oh, gentlemen . . . I'm dying, please, get me a doctor," he groaned.

Ponsonby unbuttoned his blood-soaked shirt. A bullet had shattered his ribs and pierced his left lung, and blood was gurgling from the hole the bullet had entered.

The innkeeper wailed when he saw this scene.

"It's over, God, I'm going to be over!" The innkeeper looked at the ceiling in despair, "The doctor can't save me anymore, my blood is going to run out."

His eyes were frighteningly glazed, and anyone looking into them could notice that the life force was rapidly disappearing from this body.

"It's an adult...it's an adult's person..." His voice became weaker and weaker, "I don't understand...what's going on?" His teeth collided with trembling.

"It's obvious that he wants you to shut up forever." Cecil looked down at him, "If you want revenge, tell us his name."

"He, his name?" The innkeeper trembled more and more violently, and the delirium before his death had obviously made him lose his mind.

"I want you to tell me the name of the man who sent you here as a spy, and I want you to tell me the name of the man who told you to kill us, so do it while you still have the strength." Cecil Stare closely at the other person's eyes that are becoming lifeless.

The innkeeper's lips moved slightly, and the two quickly put their ears to his mouth, and he said something softly, if there was a fourth person in the room at this time, Cecil and Ponsonby would definitely be caught by surprise. The pale face was terrified.

The innkeeper's eyes were closed forever, a soft cry came from his throat, and the last breath escaped from the lips that had turned gray. On the edge of the wound, the blood had begun to coagulate.

Ponsonby slapped the innkeeper's neck with his fingers. After a while, he shook his head slightly, "He's dead."

Cecil stared blankly at Ponsonby, "Do you think what he said is true?"

"I don't know." Ponsonby took out the powder pouch from his waist and began to reload the musket.

"So these people were also sent by that person?" Cecil pointed to the black-clothed corpse lying at the door.

Ponsonby did not answer, he loaded a pistol, went to the man in black and squatted down, picked up the pistol that had been fired just now from the ground, and filled it with gunpowder.

After finishing all this, he stood up, "We are going to take Mrs. Sewell away."

As if echoing his words, a woman's scream came from downstairs.

The two glanced at each other and rushed out the door.

Two men ran down the stairs, and just as they emerged from the corner of the stairs, two muskets opened fire at them.

Ponsonby quickly pushed Cecil back, leaned out, and fired two shots downstairs, followed by two screams.

Ponsonby drew his sword and walked down the stairs. In the hall downstairs, two men in black were lying on their backs and moaning.

Ponsonby walked up to a man in black and cut his throat with the tip of his sword without hesitation. Then he walked up to another man, ignoring the begging eyes of the other man, and killed that man in the same manner.

Cecil had just come down the stairs, and he still looked in shock.

"Why don't you leave them alive? Maybe you can find out something." He frowned slightly.

"It's too late, there must be their accomplices here, we have to leave immediately." He wiped the blood stained on the sword with his cloak, "Go to Mrs. Sewell now."

He walked quickly across the hall and pushed open the dining room door.

There were several corpses lying crookedly in the dining room, two maids had their throats cut, and the chef seemed to want to resist, but was stabbed several times by more than one sword.

Mrs. Sewell was lying in a corner of the room, covering the wound on her waist with her hands. The blood was gushing from the wound, and it was still steaming. She was convulsing uncontrollably.

Cecil hurried to the proprietress, "God, ma'am, what's the matter with you?"

Mrs. Sevier was at a loss for words. She pointed to the door to her own room, and a hoarse sound came from her throat.

"Do you want us to help you to your room?" Cecil asked.

Mrs Sewell nodded violently.

Cecil and Ponsonby worked together to help the dying Mrs. Sevier, and the three staggered into Mrs. Sevier's bedroom, and put the proprietress on a soft couch in front of the dressing table.

Mrs. Sewell pointed feebly at the dresser drawers.

"Do you want me to open the drawer?" Cecil asked, and after getting a positive nod from the other party, he opened the drawer, and there was a small silver box lying in the drawer.

He took out the small box and walked up to Mrs. Sewell, "Is this the box?"

But Mrs. Sewell made no answer, and Cecil looked down and saw that the landlady had stopped breathing.

He sighed annoyedly, opened the box, and took out a brown diary from inside. He opened the diary, flipped through a few pages, and the expression on his face became more serious.

"We must take this diary back and present it to His Majesty." He said as he hid the diary in his arms.

Ponsonby nodded, "The small door in the back kitchen leads to the backyard, through the backyard is the stables, we can ride the horses, and we will be in Calais tomorrow afternoon."

"Then let's go." Cecil also drew his sword.

The two left the room where the god of death had just visited, walked through the corridor, and walked into the dark back kitchen. Their hands were tightly grasping the hilt of their swords. The darkness made them feel that there were ambushes everywhere.

However, there was no one in the back kitchen, and the two walked into the backyard through the small door through which the servants came and went without incident.

The stable was about thirty paces from the back kitchen, and beside it was the groom's cottage.

The cold moonlight projected in the yard, and the two clearly saw the groom, Jean-Baptiste's body lying in front of the door of the hut, the blood from the wound soaked the ground next to it, obviously, those men in black Before entering the hotel, they had visited here in advance. In order not to disturb the groom's family, they let the groom's family sleep forever.

The two walked around the hut where the groom's family was buried and walked into the stable with a feeling of terror. The stable was quiet, only the soft neighing of a few horses and the sound of their hooves stamping on the ground.

Cecil and Ponsonby unhitched their two horses, and suddenly Ponsonby raised his musket and pointed it at a stack of hay in the corner.

"Come out now, or I'll shoot," he said in such a low voice that no one could suspect that he was about to pull the trigger at any moment.

There was a sobbing sound in the haystack, and then a small figure crawled out of the hay.

"Pierre? Why are you?" Cecil looked at the boy covered in grass clippings in surprise. He was Pierre Baptiste, the son of the groom who led the horses for them in the afternoon.

The boy looked stupefied with fright, his whole face was covered with tears and snot, he seemed to be relieved to see that they were two familiar guests, and then opened his mouth, looking like he was about to burst into tears.

"Quiet!" Ponsonby glared at him sternly. The child was taken aback, and immediately stopped crying, tremblingly looking at the tall and strong man opposite.

"We have to get out of here." Cecil stepped forward and carried the child onto the horse. "You know how to ride a horse?"

The child was still in a state of panic, and when he heard the other party's question, he just nodded dumbly.

"Very good, then let's ride a horse." He said and got on the horse and sat behind the child. Ponsonby also got on his own horse, still holding the handle tightly in his hand. chambered pistol.

The two men clamped the horse's belly with their legs, and the two horses got the order and immediately galloped out of the stable.

The yard gate was wide open, and the two horses rushed out of the yard gate like a whirlwind.

At this moment, four men in full armor rushed out from the alley by the door, with swords in their hands, and rushed towards the two knights.

Cecil hurriedly held the child in his arms, Ponsonby took out two muskets, fired two shots, knocked down two people, and the remaining two shot at Ponsonby, but they missed , but smashed the windows of the opposite house.

"Let's go!" Cecil yelled at Ponsonby, "We must see Your Majesty within three days!"

The two stabbed the horse's belly with their spurs, and after a quarter of an hour they rushed out of the town and galloped along the avenue leading to Calais towards the channel under the moonlight.