as he saw the pistol
levelled. The action saved his life, for it was well aimed, and
the bullet would have struck him full between the eyes. As it was,
he felt a sharp sudden pain, as it grazed his cheek deeply. He
sprang forward, and before the man could drop the pistol and
change his sword from the left hand to the right, Desmond's weapon
pierced his throat. At the same moment, Mike cut down one of his
assailants with his sabre, receiving, however, a severe cut on the
left shoulder from the other.

Paralysed at the loss of three of their number, the remaining two
of the assailants paused, for a moment. It was fatal to one of
them, for Mike snatched his pistol from his pocket, and shot the
man who had wounded him, dead. The other threw down his sword, and
fell upon his knees, crying for mercy.

"Shall I kill him, your honour?"

"No. Fasten his hands behind him, with his own belt; and bind his
ankles tightly together, with that of one of his comrades."

He paused, while Mike adroitly carried out his instructions.

"Now we will see what this is all about," Desmond said. "I don't
suppose that there are any more of them in the house. Still, we
may as well keep our swords in readiness."

Picking up one of the torches that had fallen from their
assailants' hands, and holding it above his head with his left
hand, while his right held his sword ready for action, Desmond
entered the house. The sitting rooms on both sides of the hall
were empty, but, upon entering the kitchen, he found an old woman
crouching in a corner, in the extremity of fear.

"Stand up. I am not going to hurt you," Desmond said. "Lead us, at
once, to the chamber of the lady we heard call out."

The old woman rose slowly, took down a key hanging from a peg,
and, leading the way upstairs, opened a door.

"Keep a watch upon the crone," Desmond said, as he entered.

As he did so, his eye fell upon a girl of some seventeen years
old. She was standing at the window, with her hands clasped. She
turned round as he entered, and, as her eye fell upon his uniform,
she gave a cry of delight.

"Ah, monsieur, you have rescued me! I heard the fight in the
garden, and knew that the good God had sent someone to my aid. But
you are wounded, sir. Your face is streaming with blood."

"'Tis but the graze of a pistol ball," he said, "and needs but a
bowl of water, and a strip of plaster, to put it right. I had
well-nigh forgotten it.

"I am glad, indeed, to hav