Meanwhile--it was almost momentary--Saint Simon, who was the next to pass through the narrow pier-bound way, cried out excitedly to his young friend: "Come on, boy! It will be a ride for life." Denis knew it, as he sat there motionless as a statue upon his horse, with his sword pointed towards the advancing enemy, a full score of them dimly seen in the gloom, who, recovering from the terrible shock they had received, came running with their clumsy partisans levelled for their charge, to take revenge upon and capture the daring unknown party which had made this desperate attack. There were men among them who were suffering from blows and from trampling hoofs, and other injuries they had received; but as they ran they recovered their well-trained formation, and with their leader dashed two and two through the narrow postern gate and along the darkened road for full a couple of hundred yards, before the stern command rang out for them to halt. As the trampling of their feet ceased to beat upon the road they stood in the silence listening to the tramp of hoofs, which grew fainter and fainter, till the last sound died away and the silence was broken by a deep groan uttered by one of the men, who now dropped out and sank upon his knees. "Who's that?" cried the leader sharply. "Staines Dick," was the reply. "Humph!" grunted the sergeant who had led the pursuit. "That's two of us gone down. I saw the sentry had it as we passed out. Is there anyone among you as would like to be sergeant instead of me?" "No," said another voice. "Why?" "Because I am Sergeant of the Guard, my lads, and I shall have to go back and meet the King." There was a peculiar sound from the little body of men, caused by their simultaneously sharply drawing in their breath, and then silence once again, as they listened to make sure that the beating of hoofs had passed beyond their ken. Then once more the sergeant spoke out. "Halberds here," he said sharply, "and make a litter for this poor chap. That's right; lift him gently. Have you got it badly, lad?" "No, sergeant; only my left arm broke. It was the hoof of a horse as he galloped over me and struck me aside." "Hah!" said the sergeant, as he marched beside the improvised litter and went on talking to his injured man. "It's bad, my lad, bad; but it don't mean funeral march, and between ourselves, Staines Dick. I wish I was you." CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. BLUFF HAL RAGES. "I don't understand this, Hurst. I don't understand it a bit. One moment I feel that he is no Comte, at another that there may be something in what you say. But just now I can think of nothing but de la Seine not being in his room. Bah! He cannot have taken to flight, thinking that I have discovered who he is; but we must find out that."