"By Heaven!" he said, "I hope he is dead; if I thought not, I would return to the Louvre and finish him."
La Hurière still kept knocking.
Soon the window on the first floor opened, and a man appeared in the balcony, in a nightcap and drawers, and unarmed.
"Who's there?" cried he.
Maurevel made a sign to the Swiss, who retreated into a corner, whilst Coconnas stood close against the wall.
"Ah! Monsieur de Mouy!" said the innkeeper, in his blandest tones, "is that you?"
"Yes; what then?"
"It is he!" said Maurevel, with a thrill of joy.
"Why, sir," continued La Hurière, "do you not know what is going on? They are murdering the admiral, and massacring all of our religion. Hasten to their assistance; come!"
"Ah!" exclaimed De Mouy, "I feared something was plotted for this night. I ought not to have deserted my worthy comrades. I will come, my friend,—wait for me."