“Again I say, Mademoiselle, that this is not the last time,” and I held tightly to the hand, which she would have drawn away. “I understand nothing of how you came to be awaiting us at the inn back yonder, but I know that it is fate which has thrown us together twice already. The third time we shall not part so quickly.” And again she shook her head as she had in the Rue Gogard. “I have not your confidence in fate, Monsieur,” she said. “Believe me, you must go. If you will not consider your own peril, think of mine.” True, I was a fool to have forgot it. “Pardon,” I said. “Forgive me for thinking only of myself.” I pressed my lips again to her soft, warm palm, and, not trusting myself to look at her, turned towards the door she had pointed out to me. And then, in an instant, I remembered! I had not myself alone to consider--there were Mademoiselle and Fronsac who must be freed also! I could not leave them in this den of wolves--what a coward they would think me! I turned back. None of the sleepers had stirred, nor seemed like to stir. Claire had disappeared into the inner room. I groped my way slowly across the floor. I could see Fronsac sitting against the wall. How his eyes brightened at sight of me coming back! He held his bound wrists towards me eagerly. “I thought you gone,” he whispered. “I was a fool! I might have known you would come back!” His eyes were dark and moist with emotion--his voice trembled. What a thing it is to have a friend! And then, of a sudden, there came the beat of horses’ hoofs without, a sharp challenge; Drouet, awakened, rubbed his eyes sleepily, saw the severed cords, and leaped to his feet with a yell. I tried to rise to meet him, but he saw me on the instant, and with a bound like a panther’s was upon me. CHAPTER VIII MARLEON! ONE man I might play even with, but not with the half dozen who sprang to Drouet’s aid, and at the end of a moment, seeing resistance useless, I lay still, cursing my ill-fortune. The struggle had awakened all the men, and they crowded about us, asking many questions. “What is this?” cried a deep voice from the door. “Fighting among yourselves? God! But some head shall suffer!” I recognized the voice and got slowly to my feet, as Roquefort strode into the light cast by the fire. I looked at him in amazement, for his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, his clothing stained with mud. Plainly, M. le Comte had given him a warm argument, and he had been hard put to it to shake him off. “It was no quarrel, M. le Duc,” explained Drouet, “nothing but this fellow trying to escape.” “To escape!” cried Roquefort. “Do you tell me that you left a door for his escape, Drouet? You value that neck of yours but lightly, then!” “I bound him to me hand and foot, Monsieur,” said Drouet humbly. “You know I am not a heavy sleeper. How he got loose without awakening me I cannot imagine.”