I thought for a breath that he must ride her down, but he jerked his horse back upon its haunches, leaned down, and swung her to the saddle before him. She threw her arms about him and laid her head upon his breast. I felt my eyes grow wet with sudden tears as I saw the tenderness of that gesture.
It seemed given in the face of death, for down the hillside at us thundered Roquefort’s rascals. There was no escape—yet a man must not die unavenged, and I snatched my pistols out and fired at the leaders. I saw one of them grimace in agony; down he came, headlong; a horse stumbled and fell, throwing another off its feet. I tried to pull my mount aside, but in an instant the flood of cursing men and tangled, kicking beasts had overwhelmed me and borne me down, then caught me up again and hurled me down the hill. I caught a glimpse of my companion standing at bay, his back to the river, his fair burden still in his arms, still gazing up into his face—what an instant for a man to die! Then the flood was over me again and crushed the light away.
CHAPTER VI
I TASTE OF ROQUEFORT’S TEMPER
“Again!” cried a rude voice, and some unseen power caught me up and thrust me under water. It was icy cold, and I felt dimly, without caring greatly, that I was suffocating. Then I was plucked forth again—ah, how sweet the good air was! I drew a long breath and opened my eyes.
The river was flowing at my feet. A sturdy knave supported me on either side and looked questioningly at a man who stood two paces off. It was they who had plunged me under water. Hot with rage, I tried to shake them off, but they held me as though I were a child.
“That is better!” cried the man. “He seems to have come to his senses. Stand him against that tree.”
They led me to the tree he pointed out and stood me up against it. I wiped the water from my eyes and looked about me again. This time I understood. I was a prisoner, and the man directing the affair was no doubt the Duc de Roquefort. He came close to me where I stood, still trembling with exhaustion.
“I suppose you see the desperate nature of your case,” he said coolly, his deep-set eyes glittering full into mine. He had a swarthy face, not uncomely, though lined with passion, and his eyes were like a basilisk’s. “You will see it still more clearly when I assure you that there is only one possible way for you to save your life—that is by answering truthfully my questions.”
He paused a moment as though to permit his words to sink deep into my consciousness. There was need that I should think quickly. I glanced towards the château and saw that the gates were closed and the tower manned. I looked at Roquefort’s troops, dismounted, lolling in the edge of the wood along the river, waiting his pleasure. One group, however, was still under arms, and my pulse leaped as I saw they were on guard with Fronsac and Mademoiselle in their midst. If by some lie I could hold Roquefort here for two hours or even less, M. le Comte might yet be in time for rescue. I felt my captor’s eyes on mine and turned away for fear he would read my thought.
“You understand?” he asked, after a moment.