There was no time to ask questions or even to think. Carried away by passion, the people were thirsting for my blood, though why, I could not imagine. Was this a part of the plot too? What did it all mean? No one had ever called me a coward, but at that moment my limbs trembled, and perspiration oozed from every pore. The cries of the mob were more awful than the roar of some savage beast. "Quick!" cried Pillot, "it is an affair of seconds," and then every sound was drowned in a fierce shout of "Where is he? Death to the assassin! Kill them all!" "No, no," exclaimed one voice, louder than the rest, "the others may be honest folk! Only one came in. I saw him! I shall know him! You can tell him by his gay dress!" "That is Peleton, the scoundrel!" said Pillot "If you are killed now, he will be safe," and the dwarf hurried me along. With bull-dog courage Pierre and Francois stood at the head of the stairs, demanding to know why their house was invaded, and denying that any one had recently entered. "A lie! A lie!" shouted Peleton from lower down. "I chased him all the way, and saw him enter here!" "Stand aside," commanded a second man, "and let us search the house, or it will be the worse for you!" Pierre and Francois were both sturdy fellows, but they could not have held the stairway long, and besides, why should they sacrifice their lives for me? From where we were the mob was out of sight, and we could not perceive what was going on, but it seemed as if they hesitated, when suddenly the cry of "The soldiers" was raised. Then, making his final effort, Peleton urged the mob on with renewed shouts of "Kill the assassin!" At the end of the passage three steps led down to a room, the door of which was locked, but Pillot possessed the key. We could hear the crowd rushing up the stairs and on to the landing; another moment and we should be too late, but my companion, who had recovered from his nervousness, succeeded in opening the door. "The window!" he exclaimed, pushing me forward. "Quick! I will put up the bars and follow." CHAPTER XVI. I become a Prisoner of the Bastille. I ran across the room and then stopped suddenly: it was a cowardly action to leave the man to face my enemies alone! "Fly, monsieur, fly!" he implored. "Not I, Pillot, until we can go together. You have stood by me, I will stand by you. The bars are up? Good! That will delay them a moment. Can we move this chest? Take one end and we will try. _Ma foi!_ 'twill be quite a war of the barricades! Now this table. 'Tis heavy! So much the better. Here they come!" With a roar the mob swept along the landing. Our door, which was strong and massive, withstood for a time their heaviest blows. "Now, monsieur, the window!" cried Pillot; "the barricade will soon be down. This way. _Peste!_" and he uttered a groan. In the excitement he had forgotten, and I had not noticed, that the window was barred.