aw, man, draw, we will fight them here." But La Mothe
shook him off.

"This first," he said, and catching up the broad, unbacked bench which
day by day had served Ursula de Vesc as a resting-place he flung it,
flat downwards, across the railless stair-head. "It's done, Hugues,
and never fear but we'll fight," he cried, offering the only comfort he
could to the man who, down below, gave his life for them all. "Now,
Follette, I am ready."

But Hugues still held the door, and for the first time La Mothe had
leisure to look round him. In the background were Blaise and
Marcel--barehanded, silent, helpless. The younger, Marcel, was crying
openly but dumbly, the tears running unheeded and unwiped down his
cheeks; the other, dogged and dour, with teeth and fists clenched, was
of braver stuff, a fighter, but without a weapon. Midway, still
exhausted from his flight, Charles lay on his elbow, propped against
Ursula de Vesc, who stooped above him with one arm round his shoulders
as support. The boy's long narrow face was paler beyond his natural
pallor, but his mouth was firm-set, his eyes bright and dry. The
girl's features were hidden, and Stephen La Mothe was not sure whether
he was glad or sorry. To have read coldness or reproach in her eyes at
such a time would have been bitter indeed.

It was but a glance, then La Follette touched his arm. Down below
there was no longer the rasp of steel on wood. Hugues was fighting now
barehanded, but he had been better than his word--the three minutes had
been prolonged to four. Then came a cry, "Ah, God!" and La Mothe heard
Ursula de Vesc sob. For a moment she looked up and their glances met,
but there was little time to read her message, little time to see
anything but the pain in the grey eyes. A rush of feet on the stairs
called him, and side by side with La Follette he bent across the well.
The bench half covered the opening, but there were slits of a foot or
more wide at either edge, opening the way for attack.

But the rush ceased almost as soon as it began. This new obstacle was
unlooked for, and between the slits those above could see the savagely
passionate faces of the besiegers staring up at them. Then one, bolder
or more enterprising than the rest, crept up cautiously step by step,
measuring his distance as he advanced.

"Cover me," he said to the next lower. "Strike at whatever shows
itself," and thrust blindly upwards. It was their first sight of bare