‘It’s a French signal,’ said I; ‘I ought to know it well.’
Before my words were well uttered the door was thrown open, and D’Egville burst into the room, pale as death, his clothes all mud-stained and disordered. Making his way through the others, he whispered a few words in De Marsanne’s ear.
‘Impossible!’ cried the other; ‘we are here in the territory of the Margrave.’
‘It is as I say,’ replied D’Egville; ‘there’s not a second to lose—it may be too late even now—by Heavens it is!—they’ve drawn a cordon round the château.’
‘What’s to be done, gentlemen?’ said De Marsanne, seating himself calmly, and crossing his arms on his breast.
‘What do you say, sir?’ cried Gramont, advancing to me with an air of insolent menace; ‘you, at least, ought to know the way out of this difficulty.’
‘Or, by Heaven, his own road shall be one of the shortest, considering the length of the journey,’ muttered another; and I could hear the sharp click of a pistol-cock as he spoke the words.
‘This is unworthy of you, gentlemen, and of me,’ said De Marsanne haughtily; and he gazed around him with a look that seemed to abash them; ‘nor is it a time to hold such disputation. There is another and a very difficult call to answer. Are we agreed?’ Before he could finish the sentence the door was burst open, and several dragoons in French uniforms entered, and ranged themselves across the entrance, while a colonel, with his sabre drawn, advanced in front of them.
‘This is brigandage,’ cried De Marsanne passionately, as he drew his sword, and seemed meditating a spring through them; but he was immediately surrounded by his friends and disarmed. Indeed nothing could be more hopeless than resistance; more than double our number were already in the room, while the hoarse murmur of voices without, and the tramp of heavy feet, announced a strong party.
At a signal from their officers the dragoons unslung their carbines, and held them at the cock, when the colonel called out, ‘Which of you, messieurs, is the Due d’Enghien?’