pleased than otherwise to accompany us. His
information would be worth much to Conde, and I have no doubt he
expected to drive a very good bargain. He did not attempt the least
resistance, nor did he endeavour to lag behind as I hurried him from
the room.

We had reached the head of the stairs when I drew a sharp breath, and
Raoul uttered a cry of anger. The scene was lit up by the flare of
torches, and Pillot's shrill laugh came floating up to us. At the same
moment we heard Henri's mocking voice, and there, sword in hand, stood
my cousin, barring our path. Below him were several brawny ruffians,
bearing pikes and clubs, and, last of all, Pillot, who shouted with
good-humoured banter, "Aha! the wheel has turned again, monsieur!"

Henri affected to treat the matter as a joke, saying, "Chut! Albert,
did you not know Peleton was my guest? I cannot allow him to leave at
this hour! The night air is not good for him. Return to your room, M.
Peleton, my cousin will accept your excuses."

"A truce to this farce," I cried. "Will you let us pass peacefully?"

"Certainly. You can come down, but I cannot part with M. Peleton just
yet. I enjoy his society too much."

"We shall not leave without Peleton," I cried.

"Then you will not go at all. I am sorry, there is no help for it."

He kept his temper admirably, but none the less I felt that if we were
to get past, it would be by force of arms, so, raising my voice, I
called to Armand and Humphreys who were still keeping guard at the foot
of the stairs. In an instant they came bounding up, and Henri, polite
to the last, exclaimed, "As you will, cousin, but remember I am not to
blame."

The next instant we were in the thick of the fight. By the accident of
position Raoul was opposed to Henri; Pillot, with three companions,
disputed the way with our friends below, while three others rushed
fiercely at me. One, advancing too hurriedly, ran himself on the point
of my sword, but the others pressed their assault so savagely that I
had much ado to preserve my head from being battered in.

Once during the melee my foot slipped, and I was brought to my knees.
A short, thick-set man, whom I dimly recognised as Pierre, stood over
me with his club raised for striking. I saw him swing the weapon round
so as to deliver a sturdier blow, when, with a howl of pain he let the
club fall.

"Jump up, De Lalande! Where's our man? Ah, there he is! Get him
between us and we