tartly that the Dauphin would be
displeased if the usual plan were departed from, and so, in no very
playful humour any of them, they waited the attack.

Presently it came. Out from his ambush, a hundred yards away, raced
the Dauphin, Marcel and Blaise at his heels, their stout wooden swords
bared for the grim work of slaughter. "The English! the English!"
shouted La Mothe. "Frenchmen, the enemy are upon us!" But as he
turned to gain the upper floor there came a cry which was not part of
the play, a cry of fear and despairing rage, "The Dauphin! the Dauphin!
Monsieur La Mothe, save the Dauphin," and midway on the stairs Hugues
dashed past him.

"Hugues, what is it?"

"An ambush. The Dauphin; they will murder the Dauphin----" and Hugues
was through the doorway with La Mothe and La Follette following, and
Ursula de Vesc, white and trembling, at the stair-head, more in
surprise than any realization of danger. But only for an instant, then
she ran to the narrow window where Hugues had waited, watching.

Midway from their hiding-place, confused by the sudden outcry, stood
the Dauphin and the two lads, and towards them ran Hugues with all his
speed, La Mothe not far behind. La Follette waited at the door,
uncertain and bewildered. But from a further covert, the thicket of
more distant alder, a troop of ten or a dozen horsemen had burst,
galloping at the charge, nor could there be any doubt of their sinister
purpose. It was a race for the boy, with the greater distance to
neutralize the greater speed, but they rode desperately, recklessly, as
men who ride for their lives.

"Run, Monseigneur, run," cried Hugues, panting. "See, behind--behind,"
and almost as he shouted the words he and La Mothe, younger and more
active, reached the group. "Out of the way, fools," he gasped,
shouldering the stable lads aside; then to La Mothe, "Take the other
arm," and again there was a race of desperation, but this time with the
mill as the goal. Nearer and nearer thundered the hoofs, out from his
scattered following forged their leader, his spurs red to the heel, his
teeth set hard in the shadow of the mask which hid his face. "Faster,
for God's sake faster," groaned Hugues, "Faster, faster," shouted La
Follette from the doorway, and Ursula de Vesc, at her point of vantage,
hardly dared to breathe as she knit her hands so closely the one into
the other that the fingers cramped. Then the chase passed out of
sight, and she ran