"Steady for one moment," said a voice in her ear as she opened her eyes in bewilderment to find herself standing on the seat of a small skiff, a man supporting her by the arm. Her face was on a level with the window, and looking back into the cabin she saw a light at the further end, as the bulky form of Leboeuf appeared at the door, lantern in hand, his heavy countenance made more ugly by an expression of surprise and rage. Voices were heard in hot dispute, then came two pistol shots so close together as to seem almost one. A figure leaped through the smoke that poured from the window, and Edmé from her seat in the skiff's bow where she had been swung with little ceremony, saw a man cut the line, while the other bent over his oars and made the small craft fly away from the vessel, straight for the opposite shore. The man who had leaped from the window took his place silently in the stern. Placing one hand on the tiller, he turned and looked intently over his shoulder at the dark outline of the prison ship, which was rapidly receding into the gloom. His hat had fallen off, and in the uncertain light Edmé saw for the first time that it was Robert Tournay. Before a word could be uttered by any of them, a tongue of flame shot out from the vessel behind them, followed by a loud and sharp report. The dash of spray that swept over the boat told that the shot had struck the water close by them. The man at the oars shook the water from his eyes and redoubled his efforts. "Head her down the river a little," he said. "But the carriage is at least two miles above here," replied Tournay. "No matter," answered Gaillard. "The shore here is too steep. We must land a little further down." Tournay altered their course and steered the boat slantingly across the current. They were now nearing the right-hand shore, which rose abruptly from the river to a height of some twenty feet. The current here was swifter, and the greatest caution had to be exercised. A second flash flamed out from the prison ship, a sound of crashing wood, and the little skiff seemed to leap into the air and then slide from under their feet, while the icy water of the Loire rushed in Edmé's ears,--strangling her and dragging her down, until it seemed as if the water's weight would crush her. Then she began to come upward with increasing velocity until at last, when she thought never to reach the surface, she felt her head rise above the water and saw the cloudy, threatening sky, which seemed to reel above her as she gasped for breath. Another head shot to the surface by her side, and she felt herself sustained, to sink no more. The words: "Place your right hand upon my shoulder and keep your face turned down the stream away from the current," came to her ears as if in a dream. Instinctively she obeyed. With a few rapid strokes Tournay reached the shore. The bank overhung the river and under it the water ran rapidly.