hers, with the
Earl, were but circling warily in search of a chance opening--an opening
which never came.

Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of the
room, and behind him stood Joan de Tany.

"Move toward the left," she whispered. "I know this old pile. When
you reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorway
directly behind you. Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel my
hand in your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway, which
you must turn and quickly bolt after us. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in the
meantime keeping up an infernal howling for help. The Earl was
careful to keep out of reach of the point of De Conde's sword, and the
men-at-arms were nothing loath to emulate their master's example.

Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, and
emboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde came
too close. As he jerked his blade from the fellow's throat, Norman of
Torn felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his sword
swung with a resounding blow against the lamp.

As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him through
the little door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she had
instructed.

"This way," she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, in
silence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stopped
before a blank wall in a great oak-panelled room.

Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding. More
and more rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resounded
through the castle.

"What is wrong?" asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing
perturbation.

"Mon Dieu!" she cried. "Can I be wrong! Surely this is the room. Oh, my
friend, that I should have brought you to all this by my willfulness and
vanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I forget the
way."

"Do not worry about me," laughed the Devil of Torn. "Methought that it
was I who was trying to save you, and may heaven forgive me else,
for surely, that be my only excuse for running away from a handful of
swords. I could not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan," he
added more gravely.

The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection from
flickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers.

At last the girl, with a little cry of "stupid," se