At the end of a moment, I ran against a wall. I felt along it with my hands and found that it completely closed the end of the street. Evidently it was a cul-de-sac and I must retrace my steps. I reflected that it were folly to attempt anything more until daylight came to my assistance, and that the wisest thing for me to do was to return to the Rue du Chantre and secure a good night’s rest. Then in the morning, with the help of M. d’Argenson’s men, I would soon unearth Mère Fouchon. I shuddered to think that Nanette was condemned to spend a second night in such a place, but plainly I was powerless to prevent it. As I turned away from the wall, I seemed to hear the sound of many feet shuffling along the pavement, of many voices whispering together. A thousand eyes seemed glaring at me through the darkness. There was something inexpressibly chilling and menacing in this murmur, which continually receded as I advanced, only to close in behind me. I felt that I had but to stretch out my hand to touch a wall of living bodies, and yet I dared not do so. Suddenly a door right beside me was thrown open and a flood of light poured out into the street. For a moment I was blinded, and then, framed in the doorway, I saw the shrivelled form and leering face of Mère Fouchon. “Oh, oh!” she cried, in a shrill voice, “so it is M. le Moyne--the chivalrous M. le Moyne, who prefers a bed on the floor to his own couch when a pretty girl occupies it!” My sword was out of its sheath in a breath. “Hellcat!” I cried, and sprang towards her. She vanished from the doorway like a shadow, but I was after her. Even as I passed the threshold, I heard a clear, piercing cry. “Pierre!” screamed the voice. “Oh, Pierre! This way!” “Nanette!” I cried. “Nanette! In a moment, my darling!” and I hurled myself across the room and down the hallway whence the cry seemed to come. In that instant, I saw a huge shadow quivering on the wall above me and before I could turn, a crushing blow fell upon my head. There was a burst of flame before my eyes, my sword slipped from my hand, I felt myself falling, falling, and all was black. CHAPTER X MÈRE FOUCHON SCORES I AWOKE with a great pain in my eyes, and when I raised my hand to my head, I found that my hair was clotted with blood. A weight of iron seemed to burden every limb, and I groaned aloud as I tried to rise, and fell back again, palsied by the agony the movement cost me. I felt the wall behind me, and dragging myself to it with infinite suffering, I propped my back against it and looked about me. I could see nothing, for a veil of impenetrable darkness shut me in, and no single crevice admitted a ray of light. The wall against which I leaned was cold and slimy, and once or twice a drop of water fell upon my head.