lle Gate had burst a rabble of men; a struggling crowd
illumined by the glare of three or four lights. Pikes and halberds
flashed in the heart of the mob as it swirled and struggled down the
Corraterie in the direction of the gate from which the two men viewed
it. Half-way thither, in the open, its progress seemed to be checked; it
hung and paused, swaying this way and that; it recoiled. But at length,
with a roar of triumph, it rolled on anew over half a dozen prostrate
forms, and in a trice burst about the base of the Porte Neuve, swept, as
it seemed to those above, into the gateway, and--in a twinkling broke
back, repelled by a crashing volley that shook the tower.

"They are our people!" cried Claude.

"Ay!"

"And now is our time!" The lad waved his weapon. "A diversion in the
rear--and 'tis done!"

"In Heaven's name stop!" cried Marcadel, and he gripped Claude's sleeve.
"A diversion, ay!" he continued. "But a moment too soon or a moment too
late--and where will we be?"

He spoke in vain. His words were wasted on the air. Claude, not to be
restrained, had entered the staircase. Pike in hand he felt his way over
the bodies that choked it; by this time he was half-way down the stairs.
Marcadel hesitated, waited a moment, listened; then, partly because
success begets success, and courage courage, partly because he would not
have the triumph taken from him, he too risked all. He snatched from
Gentilis' feeble hands a long pistol, part of the spoils of the
staircase; and, staying only to assure himself that a portion of the
priming still lay in the pan, he hurried after his leader.

By this time Claude was within four stairs of the guard-room. The low
door that admitted to it stood open; and towards it a man, hearing the
hasty tread of feet, had that moment turned a startled face. There was
no room for anything but audacity, and Claude did not flinch. In two
bounds, he hurled himself through the door on to the man, missed him
with his pike--but was himself missed. In a flash the two were rolling
together on the floor.

In their fall they brought down a third man, who, swearing horribly,
made repeated stabs at Claude with a dagger. But the only light in the
room came from the fire, the three were interlaced, and Claude was young
and agile as an eel: he evaded the first thrust, and the second. The
third went home in his shoulder, but desperate with pain he seized the
hand that held the poniard, and clung to it; and