ich
a couple of those cut-throats--neither wishing to have the honour of
meeting him singly--hindered each other by seeking to attack him at
once.

At last the Dowager commanded one of them to go in. The fellow came,
and he was driven back by the sword that darted at him from above the
barricade.

There matters might have come to a deadlock, but that Fortunio came
forward with one of his men to repeat the tactics which had cost him
a life already. His fellow went down on his knees, and drove his sword
under the table and through the frame of the chair, seeking to prick
Garnache in the legs. Simultaneously the captain laid hold of an arm
of the chair above and sought to engage Garnache across it. The ruse
succeeded to the extent of compelling the Parisian to retreat. The table
seemed likely to be his undoing instead of helping him. He dropped like
lightning to one knee, seeking to force the fellow out from underneath.
But the obstacles which should have hindered his assailants hindered
Garnache even more at this juncture. In that instant Fortunio whipped
the chair from the table-top, and flung it forward. One of its legs
caught Garnache on the sword arm, deadening it for a second. The sword
fell from his hand, and Valerie shrieked aloud, thinking the battle
at an end. But the next moment he was on his feet, his rapier firmly
gripped once more, for all that his arm still felt a trifle numbed. As
seconds passed the numbness wore away, but before that had taken place
the table had been thrust forward, and the man beneath it had made it
impossible for Garnache to hinder this. Suddenly he called to Valerie.

"A cloak, mademoiselle! Get me a cloak!" he begged. And she, stemming
her fears once more, ran to do his bidding.

She caught up a cloak that lay on a chair by the door of her
bed-chamber, and brought it to him. He twisted it twice round his left
arm, letting its folds hang loose, and advanced again to try conclusions
with the gentleman underneath. He cast the garment so that it enmeshed
the sword when next it was advanced. Stepping briskly aside, he was up
to the table, and his busy blade drove back the man who assailed him
across it. He threw his weight against it, and thrust it back till it
was jammed hard once more against the doorposts, leaving the chair at
his very feet. The man beneath had recovered his sword by this, and
again he sought to use it. That was the end of him. Again Garnache
enmeshed it, kicked aw