“Well?” “They have told me to repeat to you their demands from the young master.” “Silence! I do not wish him to know them!” “Would you rather they mount the stairs and kill him?” A deep silence followed. Sophia twisted about her arms, and groaned in despair. Her beautiful features were convulsed by powerless rage and exasperated dismay. Grinding her teeth, she flew to the mantel-piece, seized a short, sharp dagger, which she brandished aloft with a terrible skill. “Milo, you will not abandon me?” “Never! I will die for you, that you know well!” “Marcel is armed; so we are three! Oh! I will defend him with my last breath!” “Against them?” said Milona. “Can you hope to do such a thing? It would be impossible to resist them. They are all waiting below, in the dining-room, ready for anything!” “Oh! _Mon Dieu_! How mad I am! Do I not know them? Oh! Marcel, why did you place yourself at their mercy?” Flinging her poniard on to the ground, she sat down, overcome with emotion, buried her head in her hands, and burst into tears. Marcel, turning to the Dalmatian, asked, in calm accents— “Tell me, in a word, what it is they want from me?” Milona cast a questioning glance at her mistress. As Sophia made no sign, the servant explained— “They want the famous secret, which will give value to the powder they stole from you!” Marcel smiled, and then frowned in disdain. “Ah! that is what is puzzling them. I am glad to know that they have not succeeded in discovering what they were so interested in knowing. Milona, you may tell them that they will never learn it from me!” “We shall see about that before long!” exclaimed Agostini, passionately, from behind the door. “Ah! you are listening, you villain?” said Marcel, in vibrating tones. “I am very pleased to know it, for such a procedure simplifies things considerably! Tell your acolytes that I am not afraid of them; I have in my hand a revolver which will answer for the lives of six men. If they like, I will open the door, and the dance shall begin.” “Take time for reflection!” replied a deep, guttural voice—that of Hans. “Do not do anything stupid!” “Who is that?” asked Marcel. “He does not appear so stupid as the others.” “One would think you know us!” railed the bandit. “Patience! We will give you half an hour in which to decide. If, within thirty minutes, you have not given us satisfaction, I will undertake to make you speak. The night is damp—there is a good fire below!” Steps were now heard descending the staircase. Milona silently left the room, and Marcel and Sophia remained alone. The time-piece pointed to ten minutes past ten. “You heard them,” said Sophia. “Now you know what they propose to do. They want your secret.” “Very well! I have told them they shall not have it!” Looking at the young woman, he saw that a shudder came over her. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he added— “But I wish to know yours.” “Mine?” exclaimed the young woman, with a terrified gesture.