"I must warn you, Monsieur," added Harry, "that the least resistance will rob you of all chance of quarter. The whole countryside is roused to fury by the news of your exploits. My general has with him not only his own men but a large force of peasants from the villages. If it comes to a fight, he may not have the power, even if he had the inclination, to protect you from their vengeance. They are barbarous in their methods, these peasants; but then, as you know, Monsieur, they have been provoked." At this moment there was a sharp report. A cornet of the French horse, seeing the barricade of carts suddenly run across the road by the barn, had sent a party of his men back to investigate. One of the troopers as they approached was shot from behind the barricade and fell from his horse. The echo of the shot had hardly died away when there came two reports from the barricade up the road, accompanied by a faint shout. The colonel gathered up the reins; a dragoon came galloping up the drive crying: "Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!" [Illustration: "Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"] "You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a ring fence. It is for you to make your choice, and at once, between surrender and—annihilation." Harry had not misjudged his man. Utterly bewildered, the colonel gazed, like a caged animal, helplessly around him. At the end of the drive his men could be seen rigid and expectant. Behind him, beyond the wall, he saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed, and with all the advantage of position. The sun, breaking through the clouds, glinted upon steel which, at the distance, he could not be expected to recognize as bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements the premises had afforded. At a little distance down the road he saw, through gaps between the trees that lined the wall, his patrol galloping back to the main body. Trying to collect himself, he at length set off at a slow trot towards the gate. Harry at once signed to the two Dutch soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and ordered them to stand at attention one on either side of the door. The leader of the French patrol pulled his horse up on its haunches at the road end of the drive. "The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with a barricade of carts and beams held by a strong force of the enemy. We cannot estimate their numbers; they keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred."