Pierrebon heard no more. That there was danger in the air he knew. He had not forgotten my warning pressure on his arm as we entered the gates of Le Jaquemart, and now his worst fears were confirmed. For a moment his heart sank, but for a moment only, for as he looked around him his eyes fell on the arquebus, where it leaned against the wall. The fuse was still alight. There was no time to hesitate. Malsain was already returning; and if it were to be war Pierrebon thought he might as well begin, and strike the first blow. Quick as thought he arose, and taking up the arquebus moved off near the horses, and he was blowing on the match to hearten the fire when Malsain stepped in. "Blood of a Jew! what are you doing with the arquebus, fool? Put it down this instant, or I slit your throat." And Malsain, his poniard in his hand, stood near the table, glaring savagely at Pierrebon. "Pardon!" said Pierrebon. "I was but looking at it. 'Tis a noble weapon. And one well suited to a soldier's hand." "It could kill too, I wager," said Pierrebon, laughing, as he raised the weapon, and pointed it at Malsain, who went back the step he had taken, saying, with an oath, "It is loaded, fool! Put it down at once." "_Hein_! it is loaded. It would kill, then, if I fired--eh?" And then, with a sudden change of voice and manner: "Ah, bandit! move a step, utter the slightest cry, and you are a dead man! Throw down your poniard!" Malsain looked at the barrel of the arquebus. It was steady as a rock, and behind the little black muzzle the match burned bravely; whilst behind the match was a red face with two blue eyes that looked as if they meant what their owner said. Malsain let his dagger drop with a clash. Pierrebon then advanced a couple of paces nearer, still holding the arquebus at Malsain's breast. "Now, my friend! Take that bridle from the peg at your hand and fasten your ankles together. What!--you hesitate?" Malsain hissed something between his teeth, and snatched the bridle from the peg. "Go on! A running knot--lap it well round, and finish off! There! That is right! You are no novice, I see, _mon vieux_!" Malsain made no answer, but stood bolt upright before Pierrebon, his face grey, his one eye bloodshot, his lips livid. It is true that he had tied himself as loosely as possible, but still he was terribly crippled; and from his soul he regretted that he had not made a rush at Pierrebon, and chanced his fortune; but now this was hopeless. Worse, however, was to come, and it came at once. "Now," said Pierrebon, "fasten your wrist to your ankle--your left wrist." "It is impossible," said Malsain thickly. "Then I shall blow your brains out when I have counted three. One!" Malsain looked about him with his red eye, and shuffled uneasily. "Two!" Malsain swore again, a nameless oath. "Th----" Malsain stooped down with the rapidity of lightning, and began fumbling with the yard or so of trailing rein.