inflamed with drink as
well as revenge and savage passion. They had realized, of course, that
some enemies were outside but they had not clearly grasped the
situation. All they thought of at the time were the people in the
great hall. They came crowding through the big doorway, several of
them handling pistols and all of them shouting savage and fearsome
cries of revenge and triumph.

Instantly the pistols were presented, the triggers pressed and half a
dozen bullets swept through the room. Marteau had seen the first
movement of the door. He had divined what had happened. Before the
pistols had been leveled he was by the side of the Countess. The table
at which she sat was a huge and heavy one. With one movement he hurled
her, chair and all, to the floor, with the other he threw the table on
its side in front of her. One of the bullets grazed his cheek, the
others swept harmlessly through the room. He seized from another table
two of his remaining pistols and discharged them squarely into the face
of the crowding mass at the other end of the room at point-blank range.
The sounds of the shots still echoed when he cried out:

"The knife, Countess. Cut the bonds of the prisoners. We must fight
here for our lives and your honor."

The Countess Laure was quick to understand.

"You are safe now. They have no more shots. Hasten," he urged,
reaching down a hand and assisting her to her feet.

He clutched the barrels of his pistols thereafter and hurled them
directly into the faces of the infuriated men. Five of them were down
and his prompt action had given the people in the room a little respite.

"Gentlemen," cried Marteau, sweeping out his sword and stepping into
the open space between the prisoners and the overturned table on one
hand and the renegades on the other, "quick, take your swords for the
honor of the Countess and for your lives."

The man who led the renegades had some idea of military tactics. He
spoke a few sharp words and half a dozen of them backed out of the
room, entered the outer hall and ran around to the door on the side of
the apartment which gave access to the great hall. The little band of
defenders retreated into a corner near the fireplace, which was raised
a step or two above the floor of the room.

Meanwhile Laure had cut the lashings of the Russians, the Cossacks, and
the Englishman. They staggered to their feet numb from their long
bondage, but inspired by the frightfu