They were no ghosts, at all events. Scared as I was, I rejoiced at that. I could cope with men, but who can cope with the devil? These might be villains--doubtless were, skulking in this deserted house,--yet with readiness and pluck I could escape them. It was as hot as a furnace in my prison, and as still as the grave. The men, who seemed by their footsteps to be several, had gone cautiously down the stairs after caging me. Evidently I had given them a fine fright, clattering through the house as I had, and even now they were looking for my accomplices. It seemed hours before the faintest sound broke the stillness. If ever you want to squeeze away a man's cheerfulness like water from a rag, shut him up alone in the dark and silence. He will thank you to take him out into the daylight and hang him. In token whereof, my heart welcomed like brothers the men returning. They came into the room, and I thought they were three in number. I heard the door shut, and then steps approached my closet. "Have a care now, monsieur; he may be armed," spoke the rough voice of a man without breeding. "Doubtless he carries a culverin up his sleeve," sneered the deep tones of my captor. Some one else laughed, and rejoined, in a clear, quick voice: "Natheless, he may have a knife. I will open the door, and do you look out for him, Gervais." I had a knife and had it in my hand, ready to charge for freedom. But the door opened slowly, and Gervais looked out for me--to the effect that my knife went one way and I another before I could wink. I reeled against the wall and stayed there, cursing myself for a fool that I had not trusted to fair words instead of to my dagger. "Well done, my brave Gervais!" cried he of the vivid voice--a tall fair-haired youth, whom I had seen before. So had I seen the stalwart blackbeard, Gervais. The third man was older, a common-looking fellow whose face was new to me. All three were in their shirts on account of the heat; all were plain, even shabby, in their dress. But the two young men wore swords at their sides. The half-opened shutters, overhanging the court, let plenty of light into the room. It had two straw beds on the floor and a few old chairs and stools, and a table covered with dishes and broken food and wine-bottles. More bottles, riding-boots, whips and spurs, two or three hats and saddle-bags, and various odds and ends of dress littered the floor and the chairs. Everything was of mean quality except the bearing of the two young men. A gentleman is a gentleman even in the Rue Coupejarrets--all the more, maybe, in the Rue Coupejarrets. These two were gently born. The low man, with scared face, held off from me. He whose name was Gervais confronted me with an angry scowl. Yeux-gris alone--for so I dubbed the third, from his gray eyes, well open under dark brows--Yeux-gris looked no whit alarmed or angered; the only emotion to be read in his face was a gay interest as the blackavised Gervais put me questions.