But the man seemed already to have repented that he had told so much, and with an effort made shift to grasp the hand that held the threatening dagger. Doubtless he had seen the faces of his four friends above disappear from the trap, and had heard the scurry of their feet as they rushed across the room and made for the stairs. It could be but a matter of seconds before they were on the scene. Edgar, too, had heard the scurry of feet, and realized at once that he could get no more information before it would be too late. Wrenching himself free from Baulch’s grasp and springing to his feet, he seized the chair and placed it upright beneath the trapdoor. The instant he was free Baulch scrambled to his feet, and, emboldened by the approach of help--for the others’ footsteps now sounded loudly upon the stairs--rushed at Edgar with a yell, and tried to prevent him mounting upon the chair. "We will have thee yet, Edgar Wintour," he cried exultingly. Edgar had flung away his dagger, but at this attack he turned and shot out his arm with all his strength. The blow caught the man full in the face, and felled him headlong. The first of the men, leaping down the stairs, burst into the cellar just as Edgar, seizing the edge of the floor above with his hands, sprang off the chair, head and shoulders, into the room overhead. Flinging up his right leg and making another effort, he lifted himself until he stood upright upon the floor. For the moment the room was empty, but the men below, mad with rage at being again tricked, were already in pursuit, shouting like wild beasts, and there was no time to be lost. Without an instant’s delay, therefore, Edgar sprang to the window, flung aside the shutters, and looked eagerly out. As he expected, the gleam of water met his gaze, and, placing one hand upon the sill, he sprang headlong out and vanished into the waters of the Garonne. *CHAPTER XI* *In Pursuit* An hour later a weary-looking, soaked figure knocked loudly and insistently at the door of the inn which sheltered the ladies Gertrude and Beatrice. It was Edgar, exhausted by a long swim in sodden garments and shirt of mail, which had well nigh dragged him to the bottom of the river. After a short parley the landlord admitted him, and, seeing his sorry condition, proceeded to light a fire to dry his wet garments, and good-naturedly lent him others until they were ready for use. "Dost wish me to tell Sir John’s ladies that thou art come?" he asked presently. "Nay, I will spend the night before this fire, and speak to them early in the morning. Tell me when ye hear them stirring." Long before Edgar awoke in the morning Peter had arrived, anxious to know if anything had been heard of his master. Seeing him asleep, and hearing of the exhausted condition in which he had arrived, he sat down patiently to wait until he should awake.