ing him aside. "All start together, and it's no man's loss.
But if there is any little business," he continued, lowering his tone and
peering with a cunning look into the other's face, "of your own, noble
sir, or your friends', anything or anybody you want despatched, count on
me. It were better, perhaps, you didn't appear in it yourself, and a man
you can trust--"

"What do you mean?" the young man cried, recoiling from him.

"No need to look surprised, noble sir," the lean man, who had joined
them, answered in a soothing tone. "Who kills to-night does God service,
and who serves God much may serve himself a little. 'Thou shalt not
muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn,' says good Father Pezelay."

"Hear, hear!" the cripple chimed in eagerly, his impatience such that he
danced on his toes. "He preaches as well as the good father his master!
So frankly, noble sir, what is it? What is it? A woman grown ugly? A
rich man grown old, with perchance a will in his chest? Or a young heir
that stands in my lord's way? Whichever it be, or whatever it be, trust
me and our friend here, and my butcher's gully shall cut the knot."

Tignonville shook his head.

"But something there is," the lean man persisted obstinately; and he cast
a suspicious glance at Tignonville's clothes. It was evident that the
two had discussed him, and the motives of his presence there. "Have the
dice proved fickle, my lord, and are you for the jewellers' shops on the
bridge to fill your purse again? If so, take my word, it were better to
go three than one, and we'll enlist."

"Ay, we know shops on the bridge where you can plunge your arm elbow-deep
in gold," the cripple muttered, his eyes sparkling greedily. "There's
Baillet's, noble sir! There's a shop for you! And there's the man's
shop who works for the King. He's lame like me. And I know the way to
all. Oh, it will be a merry night if they ring before the dawn. It must
be near daybreak now. And what's that?"

Ay, what was it? A score of voices called for silence; a breathless hush
fell on the crowd. A moment the fiercest listened, with parted lips and
starting eyes. Then, "It was the bell!" cried one, "let us out!" "It
was not!" cried another. "It was a pistol shot!" "Anyhow let us out!"
the crowd roared in chorus; "let us out!" And they pressed in a furious
mass towards the door, as if they would force it, signal or no signal.

But the pikemen stood fast, and the t