I told her I was not going to France
yet--still holding some cards in my hand--but to the island in Lake
Uzmaiz, where I proposed to make a stand. That delighted her. To
Uzmaiz she would go, and for very shame, I could not refuse, after the
service she had just done me, for she had taken not only trouble, but
risk, to find out about Lacy. She desired that I let Gaston Cheverny
go to her lodgings with her to make ready for her departure, and the
young fool was charmed, of course. They left before the end of the
ball. I remained to the last, so as to avoid the appearance of running
away--but where are the horses?"

There had scarcely been time enough for them to be brought, but I
saw my four men come running back along the dusky street; and they
brought the alarming news that our horses, stablemen, and all had
disappeared.

This put another face on our affairs. We had exactly three horses
champing quietly in the courtyard, and nineteen men, not counting
Gaston Cheverny, needing to ride to save their skins.

And before we could draw breath, the open place in front of the
drawbridge grew black with men; the restless, serpentine shadows were,
in truth, Bibikoff's Russians.

In half a minute our men were tugging at the chains of the drawbridge.
They had raised it about a foot when out of the gloomy night rode a
horseman, straight upon the drawbridge. The weight of man and horse
slowly brought the bridge down again. It was Gaston Cheverny. He
turned his horse's head toward the town, and sat motionless, holding
the bridge down. There had been no moon until that moment, when softly
and quickly the murky clouds parted, and a great, white moon glared
out, making all things light as day. Then we saw plainly the Russian
soldiers duly ranked, with their officers. The moonlight fell full
upon Gaston Cheverny sitting upon his horse. The only sounds that
broke the silence were the horse's pawing gently on the bridge and a
growl from our men that the bridge was held down.

But presently another sound was heard--a very dreadful and menacing
sound, though faint and muffled--that of a hundred muskets raised and
leveled upon the man and the horse, which made the finest target in
the world. When Gaston Cheverny saw the gleam of the musket barrels in
the moonlight I believe he thought his hour had come, and determined
to meet it as a man who knows how to die; for he brought his sword to
the salute, so that he might meet the Great Comman