tion, but Pillot stopped me promptly. I had never
seen him so thoroughly roused; he dug his nails viciously into the
palms of his hands; his eyes looked like those of a hunted animal.

"Quick! There is no time to argue. It is a case of life and death for
you and me, and perhaps for many besides. I wish you no harm,
monsieur! I will save your life if you will let me."

"Set me free," said I, "and I will save my own."

"I cannot do that--for the sake of others."

Francois had disappeared, but Pierre was in the room, and he toyed
nervously with his club. I do not know how the dwarf would have acted,
but there was no mistaking his companion's purpose.

"An end to this," he exclaimed. "Come, monsieur--or stay!" and he
flourished his huge weapon threateningly.

"It is best, monsieur; it is really best," cried the dwarf. "Ah,
_corbleu_, it is too late! Listen! There are the soldiers! Oh,
monsieur, what can I do?"

"Bah!" said Pierre, raising his club, "it is his life or ours."

At that moment Francois, whose face was livid with fear and passion,
burst into the room.

"Fly!" cried he, "fly, while you have the chance!"

"Is it the soldiers?" asked Pillot.

"No, worse! Conde's ragamuffins, and they are yelling for M. de
Lalande."

At these words I was speechless with amazement, but Pillot cried, "The
people? Conde's mob, did you say, Francois? Then there has been
treachery. This is Peleton's work; he wishes to find revenge and
safety at one time. Unbind the prisoner, Pierre. Quick, you dolt! I
am no murderer, as M. Peleton will find. Monsieur, I give you a chance
of your life let what will come of it. Francois, a sword! Here,
monsieur, this way, and the saints preserve us!"

I was free and armed: the door was open; yet I had never stood so near
death since my first coming to Paris. From the terrible uproar one
would have concluded that the inhabitants of every alley in the city
had gathered outside. The street door was being smashed by heavy
blows, and, as I ran out on the landing, a fierce mob swarmed up the
stairs, screaming, yelling, and shouting for De Lalande.

There was no time to ask questions or even to think. Carried away by
passion, the people were thirsting for my blood, though why, I could
not imagine. Was this a part of the plot too? What did it all mean?
No one had ever called me a coward, but at that moment my limbs
trembled, and perspiration oozed from every pore. The cr