“By God!--” began Beauvais, struggling to his feet.
“Come so far as this door,” warned Maurice, “and, bound or not, I'll knock you down. Hang you! Do you think my temper will improve in your immediate vicinity? Do you think for a moment that I do not lust for your blood as heartily as you lust for mine? Go to the devil your own way; you'll go fast enough!” He caught Francois by the shoulders and pushed him into the hall, followed, and closed the door. Francois had been graduated from the stables, therefore his courage never rose to sublime heights. All the way down the stairs he lamented; and each time he turned his head and saw the glitter of the revolver barrel he choked with terror.
“If you do not kill me, Monsieur, he will; he will, I know he will! My God, how did it happen? He will kill me!” and the voice sank into a muffled sob.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Maurice could not repress his laughter. “He will not harm you; he threatened you merely to delay me. Open the door.” He stepped out into the refreshing air. “By the way, tell your master not to go to the trouble of having me arrested, for the first thing in the morning I shall place a sealed packet in the hands of the British minister, to be opened if I do not call for it within twenty-four hours. And say to your master that I shall keep the rose.”
“Mon Dieu! A woman! I might have known!” ejaculated Francois, as the door banged in his face.
Maurice, on reaching the pavement, took to his legs, for he saw three men rapidly approaching. Perhaps they had heard the pistol shot. He concluded not to wait to learn. He continued his rush till he gained his room. It was two o'clock. He had been in the Colonel's room nearly three hours. It seemed only so many minutes. He hunted for his brandy, found it and swallowed several mouthfuls. Then he dropped into a chair from sheer exhaustion. Reaction laid hold of him. His hands shook, his legs trembled, and perspiration rolled down his cheek.
“By George!” This exclamation stood alone, but it was an Odyssey. He remained stupefied, staring at his shoes, over which his stockings had fallen. His shirt buttons were gone, and the bosom was guiltless of its former immaculateness. After a time he became conscious of a burning pain in the elbow of his right arm. He glanced down at his hand, to find it covered with drying blood. He jumped up and cast about his clothes. One leg of his trousers was soaked, and the dull ache in his thigh told the cause. He salved the wounds and bound them in strips of handkerchiefs, which he held in place by using some of the cast-off cravats.