A moment later, before the men had finished reloading their pistols, Scapin dashed in through the window, throwing a remarkable somersault like an acrobat as he came, and seeing that the three ruffians had laid down their swords beside them on the floor while attending to their other weapons, he seized upon them all, ere their owners had recovered from their astonishment at his extraordinary advent, and hurled them through the broken casement down into the moat. Then, laying hold of one of the three from behind, and pinning down his arms securely, he placed him in front of himself for a shield—turning him dexterously this way and that, in order to keep his body always between his own and the enemy; so that they dared not fire upon him lest they should kill their comrade, who was vehemently beseeching them to spare his life, and vainly struggling to escape from Scapin’s iron grip. The combat between de Sigognac and Malartic was still going on, but at last, the baron—who had already wounded his adversary slightly, and whose agony and desperation at being kept from prosecuting his search for Isabelle were intense—wrested Malartic’s sword from his grasp, by a dexterous manœuvre with his own, and putting his foot upon it as it lay on the floor raised the point of his blade to the professional ruffian’s throat, crying “Surrender, or you are a dead man!” At this critical moment another one of the besieging party burst in through the window, who, seeing at a glance how matters stood, said to Malartic in an authoritative tone, “You can surrender without dishonour to this valiant hero—you are entirely at his mercy. You have done your duty loyally—now consider yourself a prisoner of war.” Then turning to de Sigognac, he said, “You may trust his word, for he is an honourable fellow in his way, and will not molest you again—I will answer for him.” Malartic made a gesture of acquiescence, and the baron let him go—whereupon the discomfited bully picked up his sword, and with a crestfallen air walked off very disconsolately to a corner, where he sat down and occupied himself in staunching the blood that was flowing from his wound. The other three men were quickly conquered, and, at the suggestion of the latest comer, were securely bound hand and foot as they lay upon the floor, and then left to reflect upon their misfortunes.