They watched him dart across the intervening space at top speed, stand for a moment in the deep shadow of the wall, and then begin the ascent. Gabrielle’s heart began to beat fast with excitement and hope, and even the men’s pulses quickened as his black shadow crept nearer and nearer to the parapet at the top. “What is he doing?” whispered Gabrielle; for Babillon stopped suddenly and flattened himself against the black wall. “It is nothing,” answered Gerard. “See, his head shows above the top now. He is as cautious as he is daring, and does but seek to make sure all is well. Wait, he sees some one. Ah, and he has been seen, too!” he exclaimed, catching his breath. The call of one man to another came to their ears, and the figures of two soldiers running toward Babillon were silhouetted against the sky line. At the same moment a jingle of arms was heard close at hand. “One of the search parties,” said Dubois in a deep undertone. At that moment they saw Babillon spring on to the parapet, rush at one of the soldiers, and deal him a blow which felled him to the ground. Then seizing his musket he turned upon the man’s comrade. But the latter, instead of staying to meet the attack, fired his musket to rouse the alarm, and in an instant Babillon had fastened the rope to the parapet and came sliding to the ground. But the search party now came up at the run, attracted by the gunshot, and just as two of them dashed off to intercept Babillon the leader caught sight of Gerard and Dubois, who had stepped forward incautiously into the moonlight in their anxiety at their guide’s peril. “Who goes there?” he challenged, and in a moment the guns of the rest of the soldiers were levelled point blank at them. CHAPTER XXI AT MALINCOURT AGAIN “We can’t let him be taken, Dubois, after what he has done,” said Gerard under his breath. “By Heaven, I should think not. They are only five to four, and we have them divided.” “Feign a surrender,” answered Gerard, and they walked calmly up to the soldiers, Pierre following. “What is it, sergeant?” said Dubois, in a quiet tone of authority. “Ho, it’s you again and Master Pierre, is it? You don’t fool me twice with your tale of captain. You are our prisoners now.” It was the sergeant, Vauban, whom Dubois had knocked down in the escape from the Castle, and his tone betokened intense satisfaction. “You mutinous dog! do you dare to speak to me like that?” was Dubois’ reply in a voice of thunder. “Mutiny or no mutiny, you will come with us and explain to the Governor. If you’re not one of the escaped prisoners, I’m no man.” “There can be no objection to that, monsieur,” said Gerard quietly to Dubois. “And who are you?” demanded the sergeant roughly. “With so many of your cursed brood in the city, there’s no room for honest men.” “Rough words are no proof of honesty, my friend,” answered Gerard so quietly that the man had no inkling of his intention.