You shall not enter," said he; "the king is out."

And he clung to the door.

Maurevel made a sign. The four men seized the stubborn servant, snatched
him from the door-sill to which he was clinging, and as he started to
open his mouth and cry out, Maurevel clapped a hand to his lips.

Orthon bit furiously at the assassin, who dropped his hand with a dull
cry, and brought down the handle of his sword on the head of the
servant. Orthon staggered and fell back, shouting, "Help! help! help!"

Then his voice died away. He had fainted.

The assassins stepped over his body, two stopped at the second door, and
two entered the sleeping-room with Maurevel.

In the glow of the lamp burning on the night table they saw the bed.

The curtains were drawn.

"Oh! oh!" said the lieutenant, "he has stopped snoring, apparently."

"Be quick!" cried Maurevel.

At this, a sharp cry, resembling the roar of a lion rather than a human
voice, came from behind the curtains, which were violently thrown back,
and a man appeared sitting there armed with a cuirass, his head covered
with a helmet which reached to his eyes. Two pistols were in his hand,
and his sword lay across his knees.

No sooner did Maurevel perceive this figure and recognize De Mouy than
he felt his hair rise on end; he became frightfully pale, foam sprang to
his lips, and he stepped back as if he had come face to face with a
ghost. Suddenly the armed figure rose and stepped forward as Maurevel
drew back, so that from the position of threatener, the latter now
became the one threatened, and _vice versa_.

"Ah, scoundrel!" cried De Mouy, in a dull voice, "so you have come to
murder me as you murdered my father!"

The two guards who had entered the room with Maurevel alone heard these
terrible words. As they were uttered a pistol was placed to Maurevel's
forehead. The latter sank to his knees just as De Mouy put his hand on
the trigger; the shot was fired and one of the guards who stood behind
him and whom he had unmasked by this movement dropped to the floor,
struck to the heart. At the same instant Maurevel fired back, but the
ball glanced off De Mouy's cuirass.

Then, measuring the distance, De Mouy sprang forward and with the edge
of his broadsword split open the head of the second guard, and turning
towards Maurevel crossed swords with him.

The struggle was brief but terrible. At the fourth pass Maurevel felt
the cold steel in his throat. He uttered a stifled