t was a sore test to my courage thus to meet the ugly chill of death
in a Parisian gambling hell--in a place of such ill-repute. But there
was no escape, and even if I fell in fight, they would brand me as a
thief. Should the papers be found on my body, then honorable men would
execrate my memory as a traitor to country and to King, for had not
Serigny told me he could not avow my connection with him? The lust of
life still surging strong within me, I drew my sword. Its point
effectually guarded the narrow space in front from post to post. They
parleyed a time, and I rested firm against the door.

"Come, fellow, thou art trapped; give me up my purse."

"Spit the thief, run him through," came from one of those behind--for
the rear guard, beyond the reach of steel, was ever loud and brave.
But Yvard, being in front, was more cautious. He well knew the first
man who came against me would be badly hurt. And, I rather fancied, he
respected my blade.

As they took counsel together, dozens of voices from the hall swelled
the din, yet above it all I caught a light step without. My heart
bounded to my throat; I felt the door give way at my back, and before
they understood what had happened, I was safe on the other side, with
the stout oaken boards well locked between.

I heard Yvard yell: "To the great gate, my bullies, and I will follow
here," and at once a great pressure was cast against the door, but it
bravely bore the strain.

"Come," Florine said; and taking me by the hand together we sped
through many dark and devious windings, until I stood once more in the
open street.

"Hurry, Monsieur, take that street; it leads to Rue St. Antoine, whence
Monsieur can find his way."

I would have paused a moment to thank the girl, but she bade me haste.
I pressed a piece of gold into her hand; she would not have it.

"No, Monsieur, not for your gold," and the woman of the wine shop
shamed my thought. "Good-night, Monsieur." She kissed my hand, and
drew back into the darkness.

I turned hastily down the street, but had not made more than the
distance of three rods when I heard a scream, and looking back saw two
men dragging Florine back into the street.

"Which way did he go?" Yvard demanded fiercely.

She made no reply.

"Speak quick or I'll kill you as I would a hare."

Still she kept her tongue.

"She makes time for her lover, Carne," the other man suggested, and as
I feared he would strike, I called out