Chilled with horror as I was, I nevertheless realized that the moment for escape had arrived. I slid from the seat and crept forward toward the house, across that staring disk of moonlit lawn where it seemed that the light of all the suns in heaven was beating down upon me; then, with a deep breath of thankfulness, into the shadow of the shrubbery again. There I stood erect, and softly but rapidly pressed forward. I gained the walk. Before me was the open window--a moment more---- Then I heard swift, soft steps behind me, and a chill of terror ran up my spine and seemed to stiffen the hair upon my head; for I knew that the slayer of the sentry was pursuing me, knife in hand--red, dripping knife in hand! Numb with fear, I nerved myself for the struggle; but even as I turned a powerful and cruel hand was laid roughly on my shoulder. “Proceed, monsieur,” whispered a hoarse voice in my ear. “Proceed. I will go with you.” CHAPTER IX. PASDELOUP. I STRUCK the hand from my shoulder and wheeled sharp around, ready for any violence. “Go! monsieur,” he repeated. “Go! Do not tarry here.” “Who are you?” I demanded, trying in vain to see his face, which was only a dim blur in the darkness. “No matter. You do not know me. Hasten!” “Then you shall not enter!” I said, and braced myself for the attack I thought must follow. “You are wasting time,” he growled, and stamped with impatience. “On your head be it!” “Why do you seek to enter?” “I tell you I am a friend. I tell you I come to warn M. le Comte----” “You told me nothing of the sort,” I broke in. “Again, who are you?” “My name is Pasdeloup, and I swear that if you do not stand aside I will give you a taste of this knife.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “The gatekeeper?” I asked; and I remembered the glow of adoration which had lighted his countenance as he gazed after his master. “The same,” he said impatiently. “Will you stand aside?” “No; I will precede you,” I retorted; and in a moment more we were both inside the house. As I turned to look at my companion I saw it was indeed the stocky gatekeeper. Then my eyes were drawn to his right hand, which clasped a knife--a knife red with blood. “So it was you struck down the sentry?” I murmured, and shivered a little at the recollection. “With this knife,” he answered, and returned it to his belt. “If only the blow had killed them all!” I pulled myself together with an effort and glanced about the room. It was empty. The candles were guttering in their holders. “Blow out the lights,” I said, “and bar the windows. They may think we are retiring and will wait till we have had time to get to bed. I will warn M. le Comte.” He nodded without replying, and as I sprang across the vestibule and mounted the stair I saw him going from candle to candle with incredible rapidity. I had intended sending a servant to assist him, but there was no sign of any in either vestibule or corridor.