It was as I turned the corner into the Rue de l’Evêque that a woman ran straight into my arms. I could hear her gasping for breath, and a glance told me that she was young and pretty. She clutched nervously at my sleeve, and, not unwillingly, I put my arm about her to prevent her falling.
“What is it, Mademoiselle?” I questioned.
She seemed too agitated and exhausted to reply, but pointed down the street, where, through the gloom, I saw a man running towards us.
“He is following you?” I asked.
She nodded.
“And you wish to be relieved of him?”
Again she nodded.
“Very well, Mademoiselle,” I said, “do you remain here, and I will say two words to this intruder.”
I placed her in the shadow of the wall, and drawing my sword, advanced to meet her pursuer. I had not far to go, for he was almost upon us. He attempted to pass me, but stopped when he saw my point at his breast.
“Not so fast, Monsieur,” I said. “It would be well to pause here for a moment. You are quite out of breath and further exertion might easily bring on an apoplexy.”