I am M. Anne de
Caylus, nephew to the Vicomte de Caylus, Governor, under the King, of
Bayonne and the Landes!" This I said with what majesty I could. "And
these" I continued--"are my brothers. You will harm us at your peril,
gentlemen. The Vicomte, believe me, will avenge every hair of our
heads."

I can shut my eyes now and see the stupid wonder, the baulked ferocity
of those gaping faces. Dull and savage as the men were they were
impressed; they saw reason indeed, and all seemed going well for us
when some one in the rear shouted, "Cursed whelps! Throw them over!"

I looked swiftly in the direction whence the voice came--the darkest
corner of the room the corner by the shuttered window. I thought I
made out a slender figure, cloaked and masked--a woman's it might be
but I could not be certain and beside it a couple of sturdy fellows,
who kept apart from the herd and well behind their fugleman.

The speaker's courage arose no doubt from his position at the back of
the room, for the foremost of the assailants seemed less determined.
We were only three, and we must have gone down, barricade and all,
before a rush. But three are three. And an arquebuse--Croisette's
match burned splendidly--well loaded with slugs is an ugly weapon at
five paces, and makes nasty wounds, besides scattering its charge
famously. This, a good many of them and the leaders in particular,
seemed to recognise. We might certainly take two or three lives: and
life is valuable to its owner when plunder is afoot. Besides most of
them had common sense enough to remember that there were scores of
Huguenots--genuine heretics--to be robbed for the killing, so why go
out of the way, they reasoned, to cut a Catholic throat, and perhaps
get into trouble. Why risk Montfaucon for a whim? and offend a man of
influence like the Vicomte de Caylus, for nothing!

Unfortunately at this crisis their original design was recalled to
their minds by the same voice behind, crying out, "Pavannes! Where is
Pavannes?"

"Ay!" shouted the butcher, grasping the idea, and at the same time
spitting on his hands and taking a fresh grip of the axe, "Show us the
heretic dog, and go! Let us at him."

"M. de Pavannes," I said coolly--but I could not take my eyes off the
shining blade of that man's axe, it was so very broad and sharp--"is
not here!"

"That is a lie! He is in that room behind you!" the prudent gentleman
in the background called out. "Give him u