bound hand
and foot.

'"We have caught the bird in his own nest," said a loud voice--and the
boisterous laughter of several men made the rafters in the old hall
ring.

'Philippe saw that he had been captured by five rough Republicans, who
dragged him into the middle of the hall and then sat round him,
consulting as to his fate. At last they decided that, at a quarter to
six by the old clock, he should be shot. They had some time to wait
before going back to their camp.

'Philippe gave himself up for lost. The ruffians soon began to jeer at
him, and asked if he had any messages for his friends. Then my
grandfather lost all his patience, and throwing aside all prudence,
cried: "Yes, you villains, if I had my faithful followers here, they
would soon make an end of you."

'The men laughed at this, but suddenly a cruel idea struck one of them.

'"Yes," he said, "Monsieur shall have his way"--and, looking up at the
clock, he continued: "It is now five o'clock; Pierre, the peasant's son,
who lives yonder, shall ride with a message to these devoted followers.
Monsieur shall be shot at a quarter to six; but he can write and tell
his friends to be here at ten minutes to the hour; they will come and
find Monsieur--five minutes too late. We can get away easily enough
before they arrive."

'His comrades agreed to this plan, which gave an adventurous tone to
their enterprise, and inflicted, as well, extra misery upon their
prisoner.

'A scrap of paper and a pencil were given to my grandfather; but, as he
was writing, Philippe remembered with joy that the old clock on which
his captors were relying had not yet lost its five minutes that day; he
had noticed this as he glanced round the hall before his capture; and,
therefore, at a quarter to six--the time when, by the clock, he was
going to be put to death--it _might_ be ten minutes to the hour by the
proper time--if the clock only went wrong for once at a convenient time!

'The peasant-boy, Pierre, was sent with the message, and the men settled
themselves down to ransacking the house, exulting over the trick they
were going to play.

'The time crept by. As a quarter to six drew near Philippe was bound to
a tree, and the men set to work to load their muskets! Had the clock
lost five minutes, or not? Every minute of waiting seemed like an hour,
and Philippe could not be sure whether the hand had stuck still too
long, or not. He thought it had, but could he trust his eyes in