onger free to dispose of myself. I am betrothed to
the Vicomte Anatole d'Ombreval. The contract has already been signed,
and the Vicomte will be meeting us at Treves."

It was as if she had struck him, and amazement left him silent a
moment. In a dim, subconscious way he seemed to notice that the name
she mentioned was that of the man he was bidden to arrest. Then, with an
oath:

"I care naught for that," he cried. "As God lives, you shall fulfil your
word to me."

"Monsieur, I refuse," she answered, with finality. "Let me request you
to close the door and suffer us to proceed."

"Your mother and your treasure may proceed--it was thus we bargained.
But you shall come with me. I will be no girl's dupe, no woman's fool,
Citoyenne."

When he said that he uttered the full truth. There was no love in his
voice or in his heart at that moment. Than desire of her nothing was
further from his mind. It was his pride that was up in arms, his wounded
dignity that cried out to him to avenge himself upon her, and to punish
her for having no miserably duped him. That she was unwilling to go with
him only served to increase his purpose of taking her, since the more
unwilling she was the more would she be punished.

"Citoyenne, I am waiting for you to alight," he said peremptorily.

"Monsieur, I am very well as I am," she answered him, and leaning
slightly from the coach--"Drive on, Blaise," she commanded.

But La Boulaye cocked a pistol.

"Drive so much as a yard," he threatened "and I'll drive you to the
devil." Then, turning once more to Suzanne: "Never in my life, Citoyenne
have I employed force to a woman," he said. "I trust that you will not
put me to the pain of commencing now."

"Stand back, Monsieur," was her imperious answer. But heedless he
advanced, and thrusting his head under the lintel of the carriage
door he leaned forward, to seize her. Then, before he could so much
as conjecture what she was about, her hand went up grasping a heavy
horse-pistol by the barrel, and she brought the butt of it down with a
deadly precision between his brows.

He reeled backwards, threw up his arms, and measured his length in the
thick grey mud of the road.

Her eyes had followed him with a look of horror, and until she saw him
lying still on his back did she seem to realise what she had done.

"My dear, brave girl," murmured her mother's voice but she never heard
it. With a sob she relaxed her grasp of the pistol and let it