Suddenly, in the shadow back of him I fancied I saw a deeper shadow move. I strained my eyes. Yes!—there it was—another sentinel perhaps, and my heart fell. And yet, why did he advance so slowly, why did he crouch so near the earth? Was it man or beast?
Breathlessly I watched it, vague, inchoate, scarce discernible; but the menace of its attitude, the meaning of that slow advance, was unmistakable. A man, undoubtedly, since in Poitou no such bloodthirsty beast of prey existed. But who—who? I glanced again at the sentry’s unconscious face, so pure, so innocent. Should I warn him? Should I——
The shadow stood suddenly erect, a knife flashed in the air, and the sentry fell forward upon the grass, coughing softly. The shadow bent over the prostrate figure, the knife flashed again and the coughing ceased.
Chilled with horror as I was, I nevertheless realized that the moment for escape had arrived. I slid from the seat and crept forward toward the house, across that staring disk of moonlit lawn where it seemed that the light of all the suns in heaven was beating down upon me; then, with a deep breath of thankfulness, into the shadow of the shrubbery again. There I stood erect, and softly but rapidly pressed forward. I gained the walk. Before me was the open window—a moment more——
Then I heard swift, soft steps behind me, and a chill of terror ran up my spine and seemed to stiffen the hair upon my head; for I knew that the slayer of the sentry was pursuing me, knife in hand—red, dripping knife in hand! Numb with fear, I nerved myself for the struggle; but even as I turned a powerful and cruel hand was laid roughly on my shoulder.
“Proceed, monsieur,” whispered a hoarse voice in my ear. “Proceed. I will go with you.”
CHAPTER IX.
PASDELOUP.
I struck the hand from my shoulder and wheeled sharp around, ready for any violence.
“Go! monsieur,” he repeated. “Go! Do not tarry here.”
“Who are you?” I demanded, trying in vain to see his face, which was only a dim blur in the darkness.