But he was awake now--as, Andrew knew, were the others. From the room whence their snoring had proceeded, Beaujos was shouting, "the master! the master!"--evidently he was not yet aware what else was happening!--also the men clattering and stamping about, as they pulled on their garments, were plainly to be heard. It was, however, with Brach that Andrew had first to deal; Brach, who had by now staggered from his chair to his feet and, although dazed with astonishment, hurled himself with bulldog-like ferocity at the intruder. He was, however, no match for him, who, added to other advantages, had no drowsy slumbers to shake off, and who, as Brach rushed at him, struck full at his head with the bunch of great keys and knocked him senseless to the floor. Then, since it was no part of his intention to allow De Bois-Vallée to enter his own house yet--in spite of the infernal din which he was making on the door, accompanied by oaths, threats of terrible punishments and other exclamations--he flung the bunch on to the ashes of the now almost extinct fire.
He had but time to stride over to Marion Wyatt, who, a mass of shivering fear, crouched against the door; to whisper a word to her and bid her take heart--"they were not," he said, "undone yet"--when into the hall rushed all the others, Beaujos at their head, while two of those behind him carried lamps.
"Who in the devil's name are you?" exclaimed the steward, starting back appalled at the sight of the man before him. "Who? Who? And how come you here?"
That he should be appalled was not strange!
Andrew had by now unsheathed his sword--it shining ominously in the light of the lamps carried by the men--in his left hand he held a pistol. Also, his size and aspect, as he stood before Marion Wyatt, covering her with his great form, were enough to affright a bolder man than Beaujos.
"Your master's enemy to the death," he replied. "One also who has vowed to save this woman from him. Hark, how that master clamours at the door! Well, I will not have it opened. Therefore, stand back."
"Stand back!" exclaimed the other. "Stand back at your command! Ay! thus," and with that he rushed at Andrew, wielding a large, dangerous-looking blade as he did so.
"You are a fool," exclaimed the latter, "a fool! Best go and lock yourself up in some room, I warn you. Otherwise it will go hard with you."
For answer, the steward attacked him vigorously enough, and not without some skill in the use of his weapon, yet jumped back quickly at a sudden pass which Andrew made. A wicked pass he did not understand, since, to his astonishment, the other's blade ran along his until the hilts met with a clash, and, with a quick turn from its owner's wrist, forced his own weapon from his hand.
"Away!" said Andrew, "you are useless at this play! Find another weapon."