Mole
has played with me"--

"Yes; but Monsieur de la Mole is a heretic," said Maurevel. "Monsieur de
la Mole is doomed; and if we do not kill him, others will."

"Not to say," added the host, "that he has won fifty crowns from you."

"True," said Coconnas; "but fairly, I am sure."

"Fairly or not, you must pay them, while, if I kill him, you are quits."

"Come, come!" cried Maurevel; "make haste, gentlemen, an arquebuse-shot,
a rapier-thrust, a blow with a mallet, a stroke with any weapon you
please; but get done with it if you wish to reach the admiral's in time
to help Monsieur de Guise as we promised."

Coconnas sighed.

"I'll make haste!" cried La Huriere, "wait for me."

"By Heaven!" cried Coconnas, "he will put the poor fellow to great
pain, and, perhaps, rob him. I must be present to finish him, if
requisite, and to prevent any one from touching his money."

And impelled by this happy thought, Coconnas followed La Huriere
upstairs, and soon overtook him, for according as the landlord went up,
doubtless as the effect of reflection, he slackened his pace.

As he reached the door, Coconnas still following, many gunshots were
discharged in the street. Instantly La Mole was heard to leap out of bed
and the flooring creaked under his feet.

"_Diable!_" muttered La Huriere, somewhat disconcerted; "that has
awakened him, I think."

"It looks like it," observed Coconnas.

"And he will defend himself."

"He is capable of it. Suppose, now, Maitre la Huriere, he were to kill
you; that would be droll!"

"Hum, hum!" responded the landlord, but knowing himself to be armed with
a good arquebuse, he took courage and dashed the door in with a vigorous
kick.

La Mole, without his hat, but dressed, was entrenched behind his bed,
his sword between his teeth, and his pistols in his hands.

"Oho!" said Coconnas, his nostrils expanding as if he had been a wild
beast smelling blood, "this grows interesting, Maitre la Huriere.
Forward!"

"Ah, you would assassinate me, it seems!" cried La Mole, with glaring
eyes; "and it is you, wretch!"

Maitre la Huriere's reply to this was to take aim at the young man with
his arquebuse; but La Mole was on his guard, and as he fired, fell on
his knees, and the ball flew over his head.

"Help!" cried La Mole; "help, Monsieur de Coconnas!"

"Help, Monsieur de Maurevel!--help!" cried La Huriere.

"_Ma foi!_ Monsieur de la Mole," replied Coconnas, "all I can do in this
affair i