d those with him; without averting, for
more than a minute or two, the fate of those within. Placing
himself in front of the door, he swung his heavy hammer and brought
it down upon the woodwork. A dozen blows, and the door began to
splinter.

The crack of a pistol sounded above, and the officer standing close
to him fell dead. Four or five shots were fired, by the soldiers,
at the window above. Another two or three blows, and the door gave
way.

Philip went aside as the soldiers, followed by a crowd, rushed in;
and returned to Claire, who was standing by the side of Pierre, a
few paces away.

"Let us go on," he said.

A few yards further they were at the entrance of a lane running
north. As Philip turned into it, a man caught him by the arm.

"Where are you going, comrade?" he said. "There is plenty of work
for your hammer, yet."

"I have a job elsewhere," Philip said.

"It is rare work, comrade. I have killed five of them with my own
hand, and I have got their purses, too," he chuckled.

"Hallo! Who is this girl you have with you?"

And he roughly caught hold of Claire.

Philip's pent-up rage found a vent. He sprang upon the man, seized
him by the throat, and hurled him with tremendous force against the
wall; whence he fell, a senseless mass, on to the ground.

"What is it?" cried half a dozen men, rushing up.

"A Huguenot in disguise," Philip said. "You will find his pockets
are full of gold."

They threw themselves upon the fallen man, fighting and cursing to
be the first to ransack his pockets; while Philip, with his two
companions, moved up the lane unnoticed.

Fifty yards farther Claire stumbled, and would have fallen had not
Philip caught her. Her head had fallen forward, and he felt at once
that she was insensible. He placed her on a doorstep, and supported
her in a sitting position, Pierre standing by. A minute later a
group of men came hurrying down the street.

"What is it?" one of the group asked, as he stopped for a moment.

"It is only a woman, squeamish," Pierre said in a rough voice. "She
would come with us, thinking she could pick up a trinket or two;
but, ma foi, it is hot down there, and she turned sick. So we are
taking her home."

Satisfied with the explanation, the men hurried on.

"Shall I carry her, Pierre? Her weight would be nothing."

"Better wait a few minutes, Monsieur Philip, and see if she comes
round. Our story is right enough, as long as we stop here; but
peop