him. I felt rather anger than fear myself; remembering, as the
fiendish cries half-deafened me, old tales of the Jacquerie and
its doings, and how we had trodden it out.

Suddenly the din and tumult flashed to a louder note; as when
hounds on the scent give tongue at sight. I turned quickly from
the house, recalled to a sense of the position and peril. The
iron bar was yielding to the pressure. Slowly the left wing of
the gate was sinking inwards. Through the widening chasm I
caught a glimpse of wild, grimy faces and bloodshot eyes, and
heard above the noise a sharp cry from Croisette--a cry of
terror. Then I turned and ran, with a defiant gesture and an
answering yell, right across the forecourt and up the steps to
the door.

I ran the faster for the sharp report of a pistol behind me, and
the whirr of a ball past my ear. But I was not scared by it:
and as my feet alighted with a bound on the topmost step, I
glanced back. The dogs were halfway across the court. I made a
bungling attempt to shut and lock the great door--failed in this;
and heard behind me a roar of coarse triumph. I waited for no
more. I darted up the oak staircase four steps at a time, and
rushed into the great drawing-room on my left, banging the door
behind me.

The once splendid room was in a state of strange disorder. Some
of the rich tapestry had been hastily torn down. One window was
closed and shuttered; no doubt Croisette had done it. The other
two were open--as if there had not been time to close them--and
the cold light which they admitted contrasted in ghastly fashion