"Upon this he said his name was François, and that in the catacombs he had gotten into a labyrinth of wet passages and seen no light anywhere. ’Indeed,’ he said, ’if we venture in and lose power to come back whither we started, we may never get out alive. What with the bewilderment of many crossings, underground ways, and the armies of rats, it is a mad resort.’ This notion of the rats, I confess, made me quail. So the end of it was that our new hope became but a new despair. _Mon Dieu_! ’T is a long tale." Both Pierce and I declared our interest, which was in truth real, and he went on. "The coming of the seventh day still found us reasonably well provisioned, and our elders discussing ways of escape, but finding none available. About noon of this day occurred an event which put an end to these discussions. All the morning there had been noises overhead, and we were kept in continual alarm. At last they were heard just over the trap, and we began to hope they were moving the cask. This, indeed, was the case. They made a great racket. To us underneath, the sounds above were such as to make us wonder what they could be doing. I suppose it was all caused by rolling the full barrels about to get at the bungs. After a while it ceased; but in an hour or so the Duke cried: ’On guard! Be ready! Quick, my other pistol!’ As he stood he had now one in each hand. Instantly the trap was pulled up without hesitation or caution. There were several lighted candles standing on the barrels, and thus I saw, stooping over the opening, lantern in hand, a big municipal guard. Instantly there was the flash and roar of the Duke’s pistol, and the huge brute, with a cry, pitched head down into the open trap. He rolled off the Duke’s shoulder, and as he tumbled over on to me, I half fell, half leaped, and he came down with an awful crash, his head striking the floor of stone. As he fell the thief threw himself upon him. My mother cried, ’_Mon Dieu!_’ There was a pause—when the thief called out, ’He is dead.’ As he spoke I ran up the stone stair, too curious to be afraid, and peeped under the Duke’s left arm. The smoke was thick, and I saw nothing for a moment. Then a second officer ran down the stone steps of the upper cellar and drew a pistol. He had a large lantern, and as he turned it on us the Duke fired. I saw the man’s right arm sink and the pistol drop; and now a strange thing happened. For a moment the man stood leaning back against a great cask. The hand in which he clutched the lantern shook violently as with a spasm. ’_Diable_! That is strange,’ cried the Duke. As I stood beside him in fear and wonder, the wounded officer swayed to the left, and I heard a gurgling noise and saw rush out under the man’s arm a great gush of red fluid—as it seemed to me blood. Then of a sudden the man doubled up and came down in a heap on the floor. I heard him groan piteously.