had been saved by female relatives, wives
or daughters, who went in and exchanged clothes and places with
them, but this was not feasible here. This was not a prison where
relatives could call upon friends, for to be a relative or friend
of a prisoner was quite sufficient in the eyes of the terrorists
to mark anyone as being an enemy of the republic.

He was suddenly roused from his reverie by a cry, and beneath the
dim light of a lantern, suspended over the narrow street, he saw a
man feebly defending himself against two others. He sprang forward
just as the man fell, and with his stick struck a sharp blow on
the uplifted wrist of one of the assailants, sending the knife he
was holding flying through the air. The other turned upon him, but
he drew the pistol which he always carried beneath his clothes, and
the two men at once took to their heels. Harry replaced his pistol
and stooped over the fallen man.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked.

"No, I think not, but I do not know. I think I slipped down; but
they would have killed me had you not arrived."

"Well, let me get you to your feet," Harry said, holding out
his hands, but with a feeling of some disgust at the abject fear
expressed in the tones of the man's voice. He was indeed trembling
so that even when Harry hauled him to his feet he could scarcely
stand.

"You had better lean against the wall for a minute or two to
recover yourself," Harry said. "I see you have your coat cut on the
shoulder, and are bleeding pretty freely, but it is nothing to be
frightened about. If you will give me your handkerchief I will bind
it up for you."

Harry unbuttoned the man's coat, for his hands shook so much that
he was unable to do so, pulled the arm out of the sleeve, and tied
the bandage tightly round the shoulder. The man seemed to belong
to the bourgeois class, and evidently was careful as to his attire,
which was neat and precise. His linen and the ruffles of his shirt
were spotlessly white and of fine material. The short-waisted coat
was of olive-green cloth, with bright metal buttons; the waistcoat,
extending far below the coat, was a light-buff colour, brocaded
with a small pattern of flowers. When he had bound the wound Harry
helped him on with his coat again. He was by this time recovering
himself.

"Oh these aristocrats," he murmured, "how they hate me!"

The words startled Harry. What was this? He had not interfered, as
he had supposed, to prevent the robbe