"One of my lieutenants," he answered in a stifled tone.
"M. le Capitaine Martin?"
"The same," he answered.
"Very well," I replied. "You have heard my terms."
He stood clutching the table, and in the bright light of the candles that burned on it his face was horrible. Still he managed to speak. "M. le Capitaine, call four men," he muttered.
"Monsieur?" the Captain answered.
"Call four men—four of your men," Bareilles repeated with an effort.
The Captain turned and went downstairs in amazement, returning immediately after with four troopers at his heels.
Bareilles' face was ghastly. "Take M. le Capitaine's sword," he said to them.
The Captain's jaw fell, and, stepping back a pace, he looked from one to another. But all were silent; he found every eye upon him, and, doubtful and taken by surprise, he unbuckled his sword and flung it with an oath upon the floor.