So they were making my coffin and were going to bury me. “If they could,” I thought. But perhaps they had reckoned without me. If I made a sudden spring I could easily master Barker, or both of them if Louis proved my enemy. But Louis knew not only that I was alive, but also that I was conscious. Had he been playing me false he would not have deceived his partner. So I observed his warning to be silent, and lay perfectly still for some time. Soon they finished their job, and Barker suggested that they box me up. Louis assented, and they came over to my side. I squinted between my lids and awaited some sign from the dwarf. I felt sure that he had planned something and that it was my cue to wait. Barker took hold of my hand. “Why, he’s warm, Van Ramm.” “Warm,” said Louis. “Nonsense; feel his heart.” The fellow bent over me. At the very instant, Louis gave him a prodigious shove from behind that tumbled him down across my chest. “Grip him, Vincent,” cried the dwarf. “Grip him tight.” I threw up my arms and locked them round the fellow’s back. Then I felt a sharp twinge of pain, for Louis had driven his dagger clean through my enemy’s back and half an inch into my own flesh. Barker gave a convulsive sob and was dead almost before I knew that he had been struck. “Get up, get up,” cried the dwarf, who was tugging at the body. “Give him a push; I cannot lift the wretch. There—now get up.” With that I got up. Louis grasped my hand and spoke of my narrow escape. “But we must be quick,” he went on. “Take off that boot while I do the other. Good. Now for his coat and waistcoat.” In five minutes we had the dead man stripped of his outer clothes. I hardly understood what we were doing till Louis told me to take off my own clothes and dress myself in the others. This I did in a moment, but it was slower work putting my garments on the body of the dead man. We succeeded, however, and soon Barker lay in the coffin and the lid was nailed down. I sat safe and sound. “Now put on his mask,” said Louis, “and we can talk till the hell-cat comes. What, you tremble! On my life, your hands are cold. Take this.” He put a flask of whisky to my mouth and I gulped down a stifling draught. It was well I did so, for my spirit was weak and we were not done with this adventure by more than half. It is a hard thing to strike a man down like that, even to save one’s life. I could not reconcile myself to the shame of having struck him from the back and while he was defenceless. But Louis had saved my life and I did not upbraid him with the way he had chosen to do it. “Louis,” I said—we were sitting side by side on the coffin. “What does all this mean? Why did you call your master a hell-cat?” “He gave orders for us to lie in wait and kill you. He thought you were Le Bourse.” “Thought, or thinks?” “Thought. He thinks you are the devil now.” “Wherefore that compliment?”