We kept still, all three leaning over the banister, peering down to
where the white tiles picked themselves out of the floor of the hall far
beneath. We could see them better than we could see one another. All was
silent. Not so much as a rustle came up from below. Suddenly Lucas made
a step or two, as if to pass us. M. Etienne wheeled about, raising his
sword toward the spot where from his footfalls we supposed Lucas to be.

"You show an eagerness to get away from me, M. de Lorraine."

"Not in the least, M. de Mar. This alarm is but Felix's poltroonery, yet
it prompts me to go down and close the shutter."

"On the contrary, you will go up with me. Felix will close the shutter."

They confronted each other, vague shapes in the darkness, each with
drawn sword. Then Lucas raised his in salute.

"As you will; so be some one sees to it."

"Go, Felix."

Lucas first, they mounted the last flight of stairs, and their footsteps
passed along the corridor to the room at the back. I, as I was ordered,
set my face down the stairs.

They might mock me as they liked, but I could not get it out of my head
that I had heard steps below. Cautiously, with a thumping heart, I stole
from stair to stair, pausing at the bottom of the flight. I heard
plainly the sound of moving above me, and of voices; but below not a
whisper, not a creak. It must have been my silly fears. Resolved to
choke them, I planted my feet boldly on the next flight, and descended
humming, to prove my ease, the rollicky tune of Peyrot's catch.
Suddenly, from not three feet off, came the soft singing:

_Mirth, my love, and Folly dear_--

My knees knocked together, and the breath fluttered in my throat. It
seemed the darkness itself had given tongue. Then came a low laugh and
the muttered words:

"Here we are, M. de Lorraine. Are you ready?"

There was a stir of feet on the landing before me, behind the voice. The
house, then, was full of Lucas's cutthroats, the first of them Peyrot.
In the height of my terror, I remembered that M. Etienne's life, too,
depended on my wits, and I kept them. I whispered, for whispering voices
are hard to tell apart:

"Not yet. The two of them are up there. Keep quiet, and I'll send the
boy down. When you've finished him, come up."

"As you say, monsieur. It is your job."

I turned, scarce able to believe my luck, and, not daring to run, walked
up-stairs again. Prick my ears as I might, I heard no movement after me.
Ac