Nick Carter laughed aloud. Then he turned to Bessie, who had now recovered somewhat; but she stood staring at him as if she could hardly believe her senses.
“I knew you would come to my rescue,” she said at last. “Thank God you are here!”
“Yes; I am here, Miss Harlan; very much here, as this double-dyed scoundrel shall soon discover,” replied Nick.
But the count had now also recovered some of his accustomed coolness. He had retreated to the opposite side of the room, so that he had placed a table between himself and the detective; and Nick turned again toward Bessie.
“Return to the window for a moment while I deal with this fellow,” said Nick to her; but Antoine stepped forward hastily.
“Ah! monsieur,” he said, “I have the key of the door in my possession, so that he cannot get out; and the men who are coming this way—neither can they enter. Then, afterward, there is another way out which the count does not suspect I know about, but which I will show to you. It is true that it leads through a part of the château, and that we will doubtless be obliged to fight, but it will not be like fighting a hundred men on the narrow stairway we have just ascended. And now, monsieur, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“A favor, Antoine? What is it?”
“Permit me to fight with the count with the rapiers. See; I will give him mine—so!” and he tossed his own gleaming weapon upon the table in front of the count. “And now, you will let me have the use of yours? Is it not so? Yes! Ah, it would be child’s play for you to kill him—you, who have defeated me—Antoine Lafetre—as if I were a babe. It would not be an equal combat. Shall it be so? Yes. I thank you.”
“Go ahead, Antoine—if he will fight you. The mademoiselle and I will act as witnesses.”