to the stair-head, waiting for she knew not what.
It was just there that Calvet the younger had died, and now there was
as little mockery in the tragedy. Beyond the doorway she heard a
"Thank God!" from La Follette, then shadows darkened it, and the
Dauphin was thrust in, staggering. On the instant La Follette
followed, paused, glancing backward as if in hesitation. But one duty
was imperative. Catching the boy in his arms, he half carried, half
forced him up the stairway, while in the open space below La Mothe and
Hugues, letting Blaise and Marcel slip between them, turned side by
side to face whatever was without. What that was she knew, and as she
watched him in the gap an instant, before hastening to the Dauphin's
aid, the girl's heart went out to Stephen La Mothe in the agony of a
bitter repentance. If death pays all debts surely the darkening of the
shadows brings forgiveness for all offences?

CHAPTER XIX

GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN

But meanwhile there was a pause. Below, in the defenceless doorway,
Hugues and La Mothe stood shoulder to shoulder for one of those fiery
instants which try a man's nerve rather than his courage. For the
moment the Dauphin was saved. But they had no illusions. It was only
for the moment, and both knew that in the moment to follow the danger
would not be for the Dauphin alone. But only one, Stephen La Mothe,
gave that a thought, and it was not for himself. Ursula de Vesc? The
masked scoundrel who, panting with the rage of disappointment, faced
them three yards away, one hand still gripping the reins of the horse
by whose head he stood, the other a naked sword, had his half-score of
cut-throats behind him, and could afford to leave no witness to his
outrage. There would be no pity for Ursula de Vesc.

"Damnation," cried La Mothe almost in a sob, and, forgetting that he,
too, wore a sword, he would have sprung upon him barehanded in his
despair had not Hugues forced him to keep his place.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Wait; perhaps--later----" and the moment of
possibility had passed. The troop was upon them.

But their leader held them back.

"Wait," he said in his turn. "We may save time. Be wise, and give us
the Dauphin. We are a dozen, you only three or four. We are sure to
have him in the end."

"On what terms?" It was Hugues who answered.

"Terms?" cried La Mothe. "Hugues, there can be no terms."

"Your pardon, Monsieur La Mothe," said Hugues.