"Tiens, Maître Joubard, let me come to the window and I'll shoot that man dead!" groaned Tobie in the background. "No, you fool, Tobie," Joubard said angrily. "Do you want us all to be massacred? Anyhow, let us first know what he means." "I wonder where the master is!" said Gigot, and his teeth chattered. "He has killed him," Martin whispered, looking at his father. "This will be the ruin of us all," said old Joubard aside to him. "You, at least, keep out of the way. Those men have carbines. You have not come home from Spain to be shot by mistake for a Chouan. I will try to speak civilly. Monsieur le Général," he said, leaning out of the window, "your worship is mistaken. There are no Chouans here, and no ladies. And Monsieur Angelot is not here. Only we, a few harmless servants and neighbours, taking care of the house, left in charge while Monsieur de la Marinière went to speak to you, waiting till he comes back. We can do nothing without his orders, Monsieur le Général." "Then you will do nothing till doomsday," said Ratoneau. "Don't you understand that he is dead, old fool, whoever you may be?" "Dead! Impossible!" old Joubard stammered. "Monsieur Joseph dead--murdered! And the gendarmes on your side, monsieur! Why, he was here giving us our orders, a quarter of an hour ago." In the horrified look he turned on Martin, there was yet the shadow of a smile. For Martin's eager persuasions had sent Hélène and Riette away with Marie Gigot through the woods to La Marinière, almost before Monsieur Joseph's appointed time. Joubard leaned again out of the window, his rugged face in the full light of the morning. "This is a bad business, Monsieur le Général," he said. "If it is true that you have killed Monsieur Joseph, you have done enough for one day. Take my advice, draw your men off and go away. Justice will follow you; and you have no right here. I am not a Chouan. I am Joubard, of La Joubardière, Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière's best tenant, and my only son lost his limbs fighting for the Emperor." Simon drew near, with his bandaged head, and looked up at the window. "Ah! He has limbs enough left to do some mischief," he growled savagely. "Is he there, your precious cripple of a son? I shall have something to say to him, one of these days." "Begone with you all," cried old Joubard, "for a pack of thieves and murderers! You are a disgrace to the Emperor, his police and his army!" "Silence, old fool!" shouted Ratoneau. "What do you say about murder, you idiot? Did you never hear of a man being killed in a duel? Come down, some of you, I say, or I force my way in." He would have done so, and easily, but for a sudden interruption.