But while I debated how best to avoid an altercation with the man who called himself Jean Volran, Volran's voice came from the stairhead with Martin answering loudly, roughly, as if in altercation; then followed a scuffle, the sound of a fall, and again Martin's voice: "Monsieur Gaspard! Monsieur Gaspard! Quick! quick!" He was standing at the stairhead, his back to me, his shoulders crouched, his knees bent, the right foot advanced, and both elbows hugging his ribs. I could not see it, but from his attitude I knew his sword was out, hidden by the bulk of his body. Back against the wall, where the well of the stairs made an angle, was Brother Paul, his arms raised in astonished protest; above the line of the topmost step jean Volran was rising to his knees where Martin had flung him. "There is some roguery, Monsieur Gaspard," said Martin, but though he heard the latch click he was too wary of fence to turn his head. "This fellow, who an hour ago was a thieving inn-keeper, has now a sword at his hip----" "You blundering fool!" said Volran, rising and shaking himself. "You took me unawares, but you shall pay me as fully as if you did it aforethought. Monsieur de Helville, there are only two of you, but I have four, and we seven can laugh at La Voulle." "This fellow," went on Martin, as if Volran had never spoken, "this fellow came up here three at a stride, and was told by Father Paul you were busy. He would not take No for an answer, but tried to bustle us, so I tipped him downstairs to teach him patience." "Monsieur de Helville, it is the King's business, and there is no time to waste," cut in Volran. "Bid this chattering idiot of yours be silent. You two can never hold the boy, and you know it. But we will help you. Come, sir, finish what brought you to La Voulle." Putting Martin aside, I took his place on the top step. "Have no fear, Jean Volran, or whoever you are, we two can hold the boy safe as far as Morsigny." "Morsigny?" "I said Morsigny." "Morsigny? Then for what have I wasted three months in this rat-hole of a La Voulle? That you might march the Count de Foix into the town, and then march him home again? Was it for that the King sent you to Navarre?" "That is between myself and the King, as I told you once already to-day, but the Count de Foix goes back to Morsigny." "Mad!" said he. "Stark mad!" In his eagerness he came up a step or two, one hand stretched out before him as if to grip my attention and hold it. "Do you know who it is you deride? Whose face you slap? It is Louis'--Louis'. Why, man, he will crush you as I would a fly." "Keep your distance," answered I; "you are five and we are two, but we have the vantage, and in narrow stairs two are as good as twenty. Come up but one step more, and Father Paul will shout A Rescue! from the window behind, and then you will be the flies." "Better do it without waiting," said Martin. "Rouse the town, Father, or they may attack us on the road."