But
mind, if you betray me, I'll be the first to blow out your brains."
The man seized a lantern and made swiftly over the level ground until the
rubble-work of the old Jesuit house showed in the light, nor Clark nor
any of them stopped to think of the danger our little handful ran at the
mercy of a stranger. The house was silent. We halted, and Clark threw
himself against the rude panels of the door, which gave to inward
blackness. Our men filled the little passage, and suddenly we found
ourselves in a low-ceiled room in front of a great four-poster bed. And
in it, upright, blinking at the light, were two odd Frenchified figures
in tasselled nightcaps. Astonishment and anger and fear struggled in the
faces of Monsieur de Rocheblave and his lady. A regard for truth compels
me to admit that it was madame who first found her voice, and no
uncertain one it was.
First came a shriek that might have roused the garrison.
"Villains! Murderers! Outragers of decency!" she cried with spirit,
pouring a heap of invectives, now in French, now in English, much to the
discomfiture of our backwoodsmen, who peered at her helplessly.
"Nom du diable!" cried the commandant, when his lady's breath was gone,
"what does this mean?"
"It means, sir," answered Clark, promptly, "that you are my prisoner."
"And who are you?" gasped the commandant.
Pages:
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229