hristian, at this threatening pantomime,
raised his gun to his cheek with as much coolness and precision as he
would have shown at firing into a body of soldiers.

"Down with your weapon!" he exclaimed, in his commanding voice, "or I
will shoot you down like a rabbit."

The carpenter uttered a hoarse cry as he saw the muzzle of the gun within
an inch of his head, ready to blow his brains out. Feeling assured that
there was no escape for him, he closed his compass and threw it with an
angry gesture at the Baron's feet.

"Now," said the latter, "you will walk straight ahead of me as far as the
chateau, and if you turn one step to the right or left, I will send the
contents of my gun into you. So right about march!"

As he said these words, he stooped, without losing sight of the workman,
and picked up the compass, which he put in his pocket.

"Monsieur le Baron, it was the coachman who attacked me first; I had to
defend myself," stammered Lambernier.

"All right, we will see about that later. March on!"

"You will deliver me up to the police--I am a ruined man!"

"That will make one rascal the less," exclaimed Christian, repelling with
disgust the workman, who had thrown himself on his knees before him.

"I have three children, Monsieur, three children," he repeated, in a
supplicating tone.

"Will you march!" replied Bergenheim imperiously, as he made a gesture
with his gun as if to shoot him.

Lambernier arose suddenly, and the expression of terror upon his
countenance gave place to one of resolution mingled with hatred and
scorn.

"Very well," he exclaimed, "let us go on! but remember what I tell you;
if you have me arrested, you will be the first to repent of it, Baron
though you are. If I appear before a judge, I will tell something that
you would pay a good price for."

Bergenheim looked fixedly at Lambernier.

"What do you mean by such insolence?" said he.

"I will tell you what I mean, if you will promise to let me go; if you
give me into the hands of the police, I repeat it, you will repent not
having listened to me to-day."

"This is some idle yarn, made to gain time; no matter, speak; I will
listen."

The workman darted a defiant glance at Christian.

"Give me your word of honor to let me go afterward."

"If I do not do so, are you not at liberty to repeat your story?" replied
the Baron, who, in spite of his curiosity, would not give his word to a
scoundrel whose only aim probably was to