“The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane to us; they are going to come with a rush.”
“Out of the way there!” shouted the captain. “In the name of His Holiness!”
The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers made a quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. The Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancing troops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fell back with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after the report, six more shots were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadily closer to the tethered horses.
One of the cavalry horses stumbled and plunged; another fell to the ground with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking of the panic-stricken people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer in command, who had risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above his head.
“This way, men!”
He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the Gadfly had fired again with his deadly aim. A little stream of blood was trickling down the captain's uniform; but he steadied himself with a violent effort, and, clutching at his horse's mane, cried out fiercely:
“Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!”
“Another pistol, quick!” the Gadfly called to his men; “and go!”
He flung down his cap. It was only just in time, for the swords of the now infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him.
“Put down your weapons, all of you!”