e shutters. In a moment Ranulph was outside with two loaves
of bread, which he put into Dormy Jamais's arms. The daft one whinnied
with delight.

"What's o'clock, bread-man?" he asked with a chuckle.

Ranulph gripped his shoulders. "See, Dormy Jamais, I want you to go
to the Governor's house at La Motte, and tell them that the French are
coming, that they're landing at Gorey now. Then to the Hospital and tell
the sentry there. Go, Dormy--allez kedainne!"

Dormy Jamais tore at a loaf with his teeth, and crammed a huge crust
into his mouth.

"Come, tell me, will you go, Dormy?" the lad asked impatiently.

Dormy Jamais nodded his head, grunted, and, turning on his heel with
Ranulph, clattered up the street. The lad sprang ahead of him, and ran
swiftly up the Rue d'Egypte, into the Vier Marchi, and on over the Town
Hill along the road to Grouville.

CHAPTER III

Since the days of Henry III of England the hawk of war that broods in
France has hovered along that narrow strip of sea dividing the island
of Jersey from the duchy of Normandy. Eight times has it descended,
and eight times has it hurried back with broken pinion. Among these
truculent invasions two stand out boldly: the spirited and gallant
attack by Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France; and the freebooting
adventure of Rullecour, with his motley following of gentlemen and
criminals. Rullecour it was, soldier of fortune, gambler, ruffian, and
embezzler, to whom the King of France had secretly given the mission to
conquer the unconquerable little island.

From the Chaussey Isles the filibuster saw the signal light which the
traitor Olivier Delagarde had set upon the heights of Le Couperon,
where, ages ago, Caesar built fires to summon from Gaul his devouring
legions.

All was propitious for the attack. There was no moon--only a meagre
starlight when they set forth from Chaussey. The journey was made in
little more than an hour, and Rullecour himself was among the first
to see the shores of Jersey loom darkly in front. Beside him stood the
murderous pilot who was leading in the expedition, the colleague of
Olivier Delagarde.

Presently the pilot gave an exclamation of surprise and anxiety--the
tides and currents were bearing them away from the intended
landing-place. It was now almost low water, and instead of an immediate
shore, there lay before them a vast field of scarred rocks, dimly seen.
He gave the signal to lay-to, and himself took the