We were still battling vigorously, though I was fast losing all hope,
when the tramp of hoofs sounded in the distance. Who were the
travellers? They could not make our situation worse; they might improve
it. Our assailants seemed to be of the same opinion, and, leaving
Jacques, they flung themselves at me.

Could I hold out a few minutes longer? I set my teeth hard, and braced
myself for the effort. Twice the unknown cavalier missed my breast by a
hair's breadth; but I was still unwounded, save for a slight scratch,
when a body of mounted men turned the bend in the road. They appeared to
be a nobleman's bodyguard, and wore blue favours, but this told me
nothing.

Jacques, however, was better informed. "Lord St. Cyr!" he cried feebly.
"For the Admiral!" and sank to the ground.

Echoing my comrade's words, I cried lustily, "For the Admiral!" at which
the gentlemen set spurs to their horses, while our assailants as hastily
rode off.

Before the troop came up, I dismounted, and bending over my comrade
whispered, "Who is this St. Cyr?"

"A friend," he replied; "the papers are safe now; you can trust him."

A noble-looking gentleman rode in front of the troop. He was well
advanced in years--at least fourscore, as I afterwards learned--but he
sat erect in his saddle, and his eyes were keen and vigorous.

"What is the meaning of this, monsieur?" he asked sternly, as I went