was armed, I not. But instead of stabbing,
he dropped me like a hot coal, gasping in the blankest consternation:

"Thousand devils! It's a boy!"

A second later, when he recollected himself, I was tearing down the
lane.

I am a good runner, and then, any one can run well when he runs for his
life. Despite the wretched kirtle tying up my legs, I gained on him, and
when I had reached the corner of our house, he dropped the pursuit and
made off in the darkness. I ran full tilt round to the great gate,
bellowing for the sentry to open. He came at once, with a dripping
torch, to burst into roars of laughter at the sight of me. My wig was
somewhere in the lane behind me; he knew me perfectly in my silly
toggery. He leaned against the wall, helpless with laughing, shouting
feebly to his comrades to come share the jest. I, you may well imagine,
saw nothing funny about it, but kicked and shook the grilles in my rage
and impatience. He did open to me at length, and in I dashed, clamouring
for Vigo. He had appeared in the court by this, as also half a dozen of
the guard, who surrounded me with shouts of astonished mockery; but I,
little heeding, cried to the equery:

"Vigo, M. le Comte is arrested! He's in the Bastille!"

Vigo grasped my arm, and lifted rather than led me in at the guard-room
door, slamming it in the soldiers' faces.

"Now, Felix."

"M. Etienne!" I gasped--"M. Etienne is arrested! They were lying in wait
for him at the back of the house, by the tower. They've taken him off in
a coach to the Bastille."

"Who have?"

"The governor's guard. You'll saddle and pursue? You'll rescue him?"

"How long ago?"

"About ten minutes. The coach was standing in the Rue de l'Eveque. They
left a man guarding me, but I broke away."

"It can't be done," Vigo said. "They'll be out of the quarter by now. If
I could catch them at all, it would be close by the Bastille. No good in
that; no use fighting four regiments. What the devil are they arresting
him for, Felix? I understand Mayenne wants his blood, but what has the
city guard to do with it?"

"It's Lucas's game," I said. Then I remembered that we had not confided
to him the tale of the first arrest. I went on to tell of the adventure
of the Trois Lanternes, and, reflecting that he might better know just
how the land lay with us, I made a clean breast of everything--the fight
before Ferou's house, the rescue, the rencounter in the tunnel, to-day's
excursion, and all