"Take that; I brought two," whispered Carmontelle. "We may need them. One of us must stand at bay, while the other seizes and bears away the girl."
"It shall be I. I will cover your flight," Van Zandt said, quietly.
Under his calm exterior was seething a tempest of wrath and indignation that made him clutch the weapon in a resolute grasp. He had pure and fair young sisters at home. The thought of them made him feel more strongly for madame's forlorn victim.
Their hearts leaped into their throats as Remond's close carriage dashed into sight, whirled up to madame's door, and stopped.
The door swung open, and Remond, muffled up to the ears, sprung out and went up to the house.
Its portals opened as if by magic, with a swish of silken robes in the hall. Madame herself had silently admitted her co-conspirator.
Most fortunately the back of the carriage was toward the tree, and the driver's attention was concentrated upon his restive horses.
Silently as shadows the two men slid down from their novel hiding-place, tiptoed across the pavement, and took up their grim station on either side the closed door.
Not a moment too soon!
At that very instant the door unclosed, and Remond appeared upon the threshold bearing in his arms a slight, inert figure wrapped in a long, dark cloak. Madame, still in her diamonds, roses, and silvery drapery, appeared behind him just in time to see a powerful form swoop down upon Remond, wrest his prize from him, and make off with wonderful celerity, considering the weight of the girlish form in his arms.