and gathering confidence from
the touch of that excellently balanced weapon, and he swung round even
as Fortunio and two of his braves appeared in the doorway.

CHAPTER XVII. HOW MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LEFT CONDILLAC

Never was there a man with a better stomach for a fight than Martin de
Garnache, nor did he stop to consider that here his appetite in that
direction was likely to be indulged to a surfeit. The sight of those
three men opposing him, swords drawn and Fortunio armed in addition
with a dagger, drove from his mind every other thought, every other
consideration but that of the impending battle.

He fell on guard to receive their onslaught, his eyes alert, his lips
tight set, his knees like springs of steel, slightly flexed to support
his well-poised body.

But they paused a moment in the extremity of their surprise, and
Fortunio called to him in Italian to know the meaning of this attitude
of his as well as that of Marius, who lay huddled where he had fallen.

Garnache, reckless now, disdaining further subterfuge nor seeking to
have recourse to subtleties that could avail him nothing, retorted in
French with the announcement of his true name. At that, perceiving that
here was some deep treachery at work, they hesitated no longer.

Led by Fortunio they attacked him, and the din they made in the next few
minutes with their heavy breathing, their frequent oaths, their stamping
and springing this way and that, and, ringing above all, the clash and
clatter of sword on sword, filled the chamber and could be heard in the
courtyard below.

Minutes sped, yet they gained no advantage on this single man; not one,
but a dozen swords did he appear to wield, so rapid were his passes, so
ubiquitous his point. Had he but stood his ground there might have been
a speedy end to him, but he retreated slowly towards the door of the
antechamber. Valerie still stood there, watching with fearful eyes and
bated breath that tremendous struggle which at any moment she expected
to see terminate in the death of her only friend.

In her way she was helping Garnache, though she little realized it. The
six tapers in the candle-branch she held aloft afforded the only light
for that stormy scene, and that light was in the eyes of Garnache's
assailants, showing him their faces yet leaving his own in shadow.

He fell back steadily towards that door. He could not see it; but there
was not the need. He knew that it was in a direct l