Bonvallot, who had grown pale at the first words, suddenly, with head down and arms outstretched, made a dash at Rochefort. The Count, slipping aside, managed to trip him up, and next moment the gallant Bonvallot was on the floor, half-stunned, bleeding from a wound on his forehead, and with Rochefort kneeling across him, a knee on each arm so as to keep him still. “Now see what you have done,” said the victor. “You might have killed yourself. The wound is nothing, however, and you can charge for it in the bill.” Bonvallot heaved a few inches as though trying to rise, then lay still. “There is no use in resisting,” went on the Count, “you have no chance against me, Monsieur Bonvallot, nor have I any wish to harm you. Besides, you will be well paid by me and that wound on your forehead will prove that you did your duty like a man. Now turn on your face, I wish to tie your hands for appearance’s sake.” Bonvallot in turning made an attempt to break loose and rise, but the Count’s science was too much for him. Literally sitting on his back, or rather on his shoulder-blades, Rochefort, with a strip of the sheet which he took from his pocket, tied the captive’s wrists together. Then he tied the ankles. “Monsieur,” said Bonvallot, craning his face round, “I make no further resistance, but for the love of the Virgin, bind my knees together and also gag me so that it may be seen that I did my duty.” “Rest assured,” said Rochefort. He bound the unfortunate’s knees and elbows, made a gag out of a handkerchief and put it in his mouth. Then, taking ten louis from his pocket, he showed them to the trussed one, and dropped them one by one into the water-pitcher. Then he took Bonvallot’s keys, left the cell, opened the door of Ferminard’s prison and found that gentleman seated on his bed, a vague figure in the light of the moon, a few stray beams of which were struggling through the window. “_Mordieu_!” said Ferminard, “what has happened?” Rochefort, instead of replying, seized him by the arm, and half pushing, half pulling him, led him into the corridor. “Now,” said he, “quick; we have no time to waste, I have tied up Bonvallot; but when he does not return to the guard-room they are sure to search. There he is. He is not hurt. Come, help me to pull the bed to the window.” Ferminard, after a glance at Bonvallot lying on the floor, obeyed mechanically. They got the bed close up with the head-rail under the window. Rochefort tied the rope to the head-rail, and, standing on the bed and opening the sash, seized the bar. It came away in his hands, and then, flinging it on the bed, he seized the rope which he had coiled and flung it out. This done, he leaned out of the window-place and looked down.