ay the chair, or, rather, thrust it aside with his
foot, stooped suddenly, and driving his blade under the table felt it
sink into the body of his tormentor.

There was a groan and a spluttering cough, and then before Garnache
could recover he heard mademoiselle crying out to him to beware. The
table was thrust suddenly forward almost on top of him; its edge caught
his left shoulder, and sent him back a full yard, sprawling upon the
ground.

To rise again, gasping for air--for the fall had shaken him--was the
work of an instant. But in that instant Fortunio had thrust the table
clear of the doorway, and his men were pouring into the room.

They came at Garnache in a body, with wild shouts and fierce mockery,
and he hurriedly fell on guard and gave way before them until his
shoulders were against the wainscot and he had at least the assurance
that none could take him in the rear. Three blades engaged his own.
Fortunio had come no farther than the doorway, where he stood his torn
cheek drenched in blood, watching the scene the Marquise beside him, and
Tressan standing just behind them, very pale and scared.

Yet Garnache's first thought even in that moment of dire peril was for
Valerie. He would spare her the sight that must before many moments be
spread to view within that shambles.

"To your chamber, mademoiselle," he cried to her. "You hinder me," he
added by way of compelling her obedience. She did his bidding, but only
in part. No farther went she than the doorway of her room, where she
remained standing, watching the fray as earlier she had stood and
watched it from the door of the antechamber.

Suddenly she was moved by inspiration. He had gained an advantage
before, by retreating through a doorway into an inner room. Might he not
do the same again, and be in better case if he were to retreat now to
her own chamber? Impulsively she called to him.

"In here, Monsieur de Garnache. In here."

The Marquise looked across at her, and smiled in mockery. Garnache was
too well occupied, she thought, to attempt any such rashness. If he but
dared remove his shoulders from the wall there would be a speedier end
to him than as things were.

Not so, however, thought Garnache. The cloak twisted about his left
arm gave him some advantage, and he used it to the full. He flicked
the slack of it in the face of one, and followed it up by stabbing the
fellow in the stomach before he could recover guard, whilst with another
w