"Well, sir, I will stand against it, and if you will get on to my shoulders and put your foot on my head, you will reach the top. Then, if you lower one end of your sash to me, I can pull myself up beside you."
"Yes, I think we can manage it that way, Mike. I am convinced that there is something wrong going on here, and I don't mind taking the risk of getting into a scrape by interfering. Now do you stoop a bit, so that I can get on to your shoulder; then you can raise yourself to your full height. Take off your hat, first. I shall certainly have to put my foot on your head."
"All right, your honour. Don't you be afraid of hurting me. My skull is thick enough to stand the weight of two of you."
In a minute, Desmond had his fingers on the top of the gates, drew himself up, and, moving to the corner, where he could get his back against the end of the wall, lowered his sash to Mike.
"You are sure I shall not pull you down?"
"I am not sure, but we will try, anyhow."
This was said in a whisper, for there might, for anything he knew, be two or three men in the garden. Mike took off his boots, so as to avoid making a noise. Desmond was sitting astride of the gate, and had his end of the sash over the top of it, and under his leg, thereby greatly reducing the strain that would be thrown on it, and then leaning with all his weight on it, where it crossed the gate. Mike was an active as well as a strong man, and speedily was by his side.
"Now we will drop down," Desmond said, and, setting the example, lowered himself till he hung by his hands, and then dropped. Mike was soon beside him.
"What shall we do next?"
"We will go and knock boldly at the door; but before we do that, we will unbar the gate and shoot the bolt of the lock. We have no idea how many men there may be in the house. Maybe we shall have to beat a retreat."
The lock was shot without difficulty, but the bolts were still fast, and were not drawn without noise. They pushed back the last of these, and then opened the gates, which creaked noisily as they did so.
"They can hardly help hearing that," Desmond muttered; and indeed, as he spoke, the door of the house opened suddenly, and five men came out, two of them holding torches. A man, who seemed to be the leader of the party, uttered an exclamation of fury as the light fell upon the figures of the two men at the open gate.
"Cut the villains down!" he shouted.
"Stop!" Desmond cried, in a loud voice. "I am an officer of O'Brien's regiment of foot. I heard a scream, and a woman's cry for help, and, fearing that foul play was going on, I made my entry here."
The man, who had drawn his sword, paused.
"You have done wrong, sir. The cries you heard were those of a mad woman. You had better withdraw at once. I shall report you, tomorrow, for having forcibly made an entrance into private premises."
"That you are perfectly at liberty to do," Desmond replied quietly; "but certainly I shall not withdraw, until I see this lady, and ascertain from herself whether your story is a true one."
"Then your blood be on your own head!" the man said.
"At them, men! you know your orders–to kill anyone who attempted to interfere with us, no matter what his rank."
The five men rushed together upon the intruders.
"Hold the gate, Mike," Desmond said, "and they cannot get behind us."
They stepped back a pace or two, and drew their swords. The position was a favourable one, for the two halves of the gate opened inwards, and so protected them from any but an attack in front. The leader rushed at Desmond, but the latter guarded the sweeping blow he dealt at him, and at the first pass ran him through the body; but the other four men, enraged rather than daunted by the fall of their leader, now rushed forward together, and one of them, drawing a pistol, fired at Desmond when within three paces.
The latter threw his head on one side, as he saw the pistol levelled. The action saved his life, for it was well aimed, and the bullet would have struck him full between the eyes. As it was, he felt a sharp sudden pain, as it grazed his cheek deeply. He sprang forward, and before the man could drop the pistol and change his sword from the left hand to the right, Desmond's weapon pierced his throat. At the same moment, Mike cut down one of his assailants with his sabre, receiving, however, a severe cut on the left shoulder from the other.
Paralysed at the loss of three of their number, the remaining two of the assailants paused, for a moment. It was fatal to one of them, for Mike snatched his pistol from his pocket, and shot the man who had wounded him, dead. The other threw down his sword, and fell upon his knees, crying for mercy.
"Shall I kill him, your honour?"
"No. Fasten his hands behind him, with his own belt; and bind his ankles tightly together, with that of one of his comrades."
He paused, while Mike adroitly carried out his instructions.
"Now we will see what this is all about," Desmond said. "I don't suppose that there are any more of them in the house. Still, we may as well keep our swords in readiness."
Picking up one of the torches that had fallen from their assailants' hands, and holding it above his head with his left hand, while his right held his sword ready for action, Desmond entered the house. The sitting rooms on both sides of the hall were empty, but, upon entering the kitchen, he found an old woman crouching in a corner, in the extremity of fear.
"Stand up. I am not going to hurt you," Desmond said. "Lead us, at once, to the chamber of the lady we heard call out."
The old woman rose slowly, took down a key hanging from a peg, and, leading the way upstairs, opened a door.
"Keep a watch upon the crone," Desmond said, as he entered.
As he did so, his eye fell upon a girl of some seventeen years old. She was standing at the window, with her hands clasped. She turned round as he entered, and, as her eye fell upon his uniform, she gave a cry of delight.
"Ah, monsieur, you have rescued me! I heard the fight in the garden, and knew that the good God had sent someone to my aid. But you are wounded, sir. Your face is streaming with blood."
"'Tis but the graze of a pistol ball," he said, "and needs but a bowl of water, and a strip of plaster, to put it right. I had well-nigh forgotten it.
"I am glad, indeed, to have been able to render you this service, mademoiselle. It was most providential that I happened to come along the road, and heard your screams and cries for aid; and I determined to see if any foul business was being carried on here. What made you call out?"
"I had let myself down from the window, by knotting the bedclothes together. I was blindfolded, when they carried me in here, and did not know that the walls were so high all round, but had hoped to find some gate by which I might escape. There were only the great gates, and these were locked; and I was trying to draw the bolts when two of the men suddenly rushed out. I suppose the old woman came up here, and found the room empty. It was then that I screamed for help, but they dragged me in, in spite of my struggles, and one said I might scream as much as I liked, for there was not a house within hearing, and no one would be passing anywhere near.
"When he said that, I quite gave up hope. I had believed that I was in some lonely house, in the suburbs of the city, and I little thought that my cries could not be heard.
"But where are the men who guarded me?"
"Four of them are dead, mademoiselle, and the other securely bound. Now, if you will tell me who you are, and where your friends live, I and my soldier servant will escort you to them."
"My name is Anne de Pointdexter."
Desmond was scarcely surprised, for the care which had been taken in choosing so lonely a spot for her concealment, and the fact that an officer and four men should be placed there to guard her, showed that she must have been regarded as a prisoner of importance.
"Then I am glad, indeed, to have been the means of rescuing you. All Paris has been talking of your disappearance, for the past ten days. The question is,