UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 Shea, of the Irish Brigade
 
 SOME SUCCESSFUL BOOKS 
 
 By RANDALL PARRISB 
 
 MY LADY OF THE NORTH 
 
 Seventieth Tkautar.d 
 
 MY LADY OF THE SOUTH 
 
 Sixtieth Thousand 
 
 BOB HAMPTON OF PLACER 
 
 Sixty-fifth Thousand 
 
 SWORD OF THE OLD FRONTIER 
 
 Fifty-second Thousand 
 
 BETH NORVELL 
 
 Fifty-third Thousand 
 
 WHEN WILDERNESS WAS KING 
 
 Fifty-fifth Thousand
 
 SHEA 
 
 OF 
 
 THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 A Soldier's Story 
 
 By 
 
 RANDALL PARRISH 
 
 Author of "When Wilderness Was King," "The Maid of the Forest,' etc. 
 
 Frontispiece in color by 
 
 ALONZO KIMBALL 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 19H
 
 Copyright 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 1914 
 
 Published March, 1914. 
 
 Copyrighted in Great Britain 
 
 ijall printing CCompann.
 
 PS 
 35-3 
 
 " Oh, the fighting races don 't die out, 
 
 If they seldom die in bed, 
 For love is first in their hearts, no doubt," 
 
 Said Burke, then Kelly said: 
 " When Michael, the Irish archangel, stands, 
 OP The angel with the sword, 
 
 gjj And the battle-dead from a hundred lands 
 
 Are ranged in one big horde, 
 Our line, that for Gabriel's trumpet waits, 
 
 C^I 
 
 JS Will stretch three deep that day, 
 
 ^L From Jehosaphat to the Golden Gates 
 Kelly and Burke and Shea." 
 
 H " Well here 's thank God for the race and the sod ! " 
 ^ 
 
 Said Kelly and Burke and Shea. 
 
 JOSEPH I. C. CLARKE. 
 
 3378
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE FUGITIVE i 
 
 II A SQUADRON OF GUARDS ... 12 
 
 III WHAT I OVERHEARD .... 23 
 
 IV I MEET THE LADY .... 36 
 V A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING . 50 
 
 VI THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN . 62 
 
 VII I FIGHT THE CAPTAIN ... 76 
 
 VIII IN DESPERATE STRAIT ... 92 
 
 IX THE CASTLE OF ROISEL . . . 105 
 
 X WITHIN THE WALLS . . . . 119 
 
 XI I RELEASE A PRISONER . . . 132 
 
 XII IN THE BANQUET HALL . . . 146 
 
 XIII THE SECRET STAIRS . . . . 160 
 
 XIV THE DWARF'S STORY .... 172 
 XV THE EMPTY CELL 188 
 
 XVI WITH MADEMOISELLE .... 203 
 
 XVII WE FACE THE SITUATION . . 221 
 
 XVIII THE DEATH OF CASSIER . . . 238 
 
 XIX FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS . . 253 
 
 XX THE VISION ON THE ROOF . . 268 
 
 XXI WE LAY THE GHOST .... 282 
 
 XXII THE ATTACK 300 
 
 XXIII THE FIGHT FOR LIFE . . . . 315 
 
 XXIV CROSSED SWORDS WITH DE SAULE 328 
 XXV THE SUNRISE OF TOMORROW . 335
 
 Shea, of the Irish Brigade: 
 
 A Soldier's Story 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE FUGITIVE 
 
 THE night was so dark and the road so 
 bad, that in spite of my desire to move 
 swiftly I dare not spur my horse. It must 
 have been an ill-kept road at best, but now, 
 rutted deep by the wheels of passing cannon, 
 and dug up by cavalry hoofs, it had become 
 almost impassable. Here and there along the 
 way I had been obliged to circle broken-down 
 wagons, and now and then a lifeless horse, 
 while many a discarded musket and saddle 
 littered the path. That the troops marching 
 this particular route had been Austrian 
 Konigskegg's devils I knew well, and I had 
 no wish to fall into their hands. The uniform 
 of the Royal Irlandais would be no passport 
 to their favor. 
 
 And it was plain to see the mood in which
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 they marched, for not a living thing had been 
 left behind. In all that wide plain only deso 
 lation remained. Here and there the night 
 wind fanned into glow the embers of a burned 
 hut, and once, as I rode aside in search of 
 water, it was only to find the dead body of 
 a peasant, shot running with a child in his 
 arms. The same bullet had sufficed for both. 
 A few steps away lay a dog bayoneted. I 
 hastened from the spot, leading my horse, and 
 listening, but there was no sound except the 
 wind. The very silence weighed on me. 
 
 Yet it was not those who had already passed 
 I feared. I knew where they would be by 
 now across the river, no doubt, in touch 
 with the English guards but there were oth 
 ers to follow Austrian, Hanoverian, Dutch 
 all straining for the same goal, the invest 
 ment of Tournay. They would come this 
 way; at any instant I might hear the rattle 
 of their accouterments, the heavy tread of 
 feet; and soon it would be dawn. It was this 
 knowledge which spurred me to decided 
 action. I no longer felt fear of pursuit, for, 
 
 [2]
 
 THE FUGITIVE 
 
 even if my absence had been reported, Saxe 
 would never venture to send a small party so 
 far afield. It was the allies, through whose 
 lines I was seeking passage, that I needed to 
 avoid. And to escape discovery I must find a 
 safe hiding place before dawn. The rough 
 walls of a home of some pretensions loomed 
 black to the right, but the stones had been shat 
 tered by cannon shot, and offered no protec 
 tion. Yet I found here the trace of a road 
 leading southward, and I mounted again and 
 rode forward with greater confidence, meet 
 ing with no evidence that troops had passed 
 that way. 
 
 I must have covered two miles, and faint 
 light was already visible in the east, when 
 the road skirted the edge of a wood, and 
 turned sharply to the west. Just at the turn, 
 dark, seemingly deserted, appeared a small 
 hamlet. Not to exceed a half-dozen houses 
 were huddled there, the most of them small 
 peasant shacks ; but the one closest to the road 
 was a larger, square building, with a creaking 
 sign in front. Beyond doubt, and not long 
 
 [3]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 since, it had been an inn. Now, not a figure 
 moved about the place, nor a light gleamed 
 from the windows. My horse stood with 
 drooping head while I explored on foot, pass 
 ing entirely around the building, and even 
 entering the hovel nearby. There was no sign 
 of life to be discovered, nor any evidence of 
 damage. Apparently the near approach of 
 the armies had caused the inhabitants to flee in 
 terror, leaving their homes deserted. Possi 
 bly troops had advanced this way, but if so 
 they must have turned aside, for not a door 
 was broken, or sign of damage visible. Dread 
 of the allies, a rumor of their approach, had 
 been sufficient to send the people flying for 
 their lives. 
 
 I tried the doors, finding them locked, but 
 finally located a window shutter with a broken 
 clasp which assured entrance. There was a 
 trough, half filled with water, beside the road, 
 and after permitting my horse to drink I led 
 him to the shack behind, and shut him securely 
 in. There was light enough by then for me 
 to uncover an armful of fodder with which to 
 
 [4]
 
 THE FUGITIVE 
 
 make him content in his new quarters. In the 
 gray dawn I was enabled to distinguish more 
 of my surroundings, although the wood shut 
 off all view to the south and east. The re 
 mainder of the circle was a flat plain, termi 
 nating in a rocky ridge through which the road 
 ran, with a large building, having the appear 
 ance of a monastery, topping its summit. Even 
 at that distance I could perceive it had been 
 gutted by fire, and was roofless. In no direc 
 tion was there sign of human life, yet I knew 
 not what furtive eyes might be watching me 
 from the wood shadow. Nevertheless, I must 
 hide here if at all, and my needs demanded 
 both food and a couch. Every muscle of my 
 body ached from fatigue. 
 
 No sound reached me, not even a movement 
 of my horse; by now, no doubt, munching 
 away in content, well satisfied with his new 
 quarters. The leverage of a billet of wood 
 served to open the shutter, and I clambered 
 easily enough onto the window ledge. Noth 
 ing within deterred me, and my feet touched 
 the floor. Except for the faint gray light find- 
 
 [5]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 ing entrance through the open window, the 
 interior remained dark and obscure. Yet the 
 few dim objects near at hand told me I was 
 in the taproom, which apparently remained 
 just as deserted. That the flight of its former 
 occupants had been hurried was proven by sev 
 eral overturned glasses on a table, and the 
 spigot of a cask loosened, so the contents had 
 flooded the floor. The breath of wine was in 
 the air, a sickening odor. I stepped cautiously 
 forward, glancing into every dark corner to 
 assure myself, and then taking swift survey 
 of the entire room. 
 
 It was an apartment of size, containing 
 three or four rough home-made tables, and a 
 number of benches. A huge fireplace occu 
 pied one end; the broad mantel above being 
 ornamented with numerous German steins, 
 while a comfortable woven chair was in front. 
 The ashes on the hearth were black and cold, 
 although the broken blade of a sword, evi 
 dently utilized as a poker, lay half hidden in 
 their fragments. Along one side were kegs 
 two of them tapped with a narrow table 
 
 f6]
 
 THE FUGITIVE 
 
 in front holding an array of pewter mugs. 
 Beyond, a door stood ajar leading into a 
 smaller room which proved to be the kitchen, 
 while a ladder led upward through a trap to 
 the floor above. The ceiling of rough hewn 
 timber was low, blackened by smoke and age, 
 the floor dirty and strewn with straw. 
 
 Here all was indeed a picture of dirt and 
 squalor, yet forced by hunger I rummaged the 
 pantry, finding a black loaf and a bit of cold 
 roast, on which I made a hearty meal, wash 
 ing it down with a glass of fair Burgundy, tak 
 ing stock as I did so, of my surroundings now 
 more plainly revealed as the day dawned. 
 What had driven mine host away so suddenly, 
 and depopulated the village, I could only sur 
 mise. Little doubt however but some threat 
 ened inroad of Austrians had caused a panic 
 during the night, and if so the owners would 
 likely come creeping back again as soon as the 
 return of day gave them courage. Well, let 
 them come: I must hide and sleep, and these 
 people would be French. Even if discov 
 ered, the attic failing to conceal me, the uni- 
 
 [7]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 form I wore would protect me from violence. 
 
 I fastened the window by which I had 
 gained entrance and crept up the ladder, the 
 rungs creaking under my weight, and, with 
 head above the rough flooring surveyed the 
 surroundings. The ill-thatched roof admit 
 ted plenty of air and light. There were no 
 furnishings except some disreputable cover 
 lets on the bare floor, and a pile of straw in 
 the further corner. I had drawn myself to my 
 knees, before I noticed the body of a man 
 lying outstretched beneath the eaves. His face 
 was toward me, that of a man of middle-age, 
 full-jowled with black beard, streaked with 
 gray. His clothes were well worn, but of 
 good cut, and I took him, at first glance, to 
 have been an upper servant to some house of 
 quality. There was pest in the camps, but I 
 had little fear of it then, for no disease had 
 killed this fellow, and I turned him over, find 
 ing what I expected, a knife thrust in the back. 
 Faith! he had never known what killed him. 
 
 Five years of service had left me careless of 
 death. I had slept on battle fields strewn with 
 
 [8]
 
 THE FUGITIVE 
 
 corpses, forgetful of all but my own need. 
 Now I was in little better stress, being worn 
 with fatigue, my eyes held open by effort. 
 The man was not a soldier; he was nothing to 
 me, nor had I any interest in the taproom 
 quarrel wherein he was shuffled off. So I 
 drew a quilt over him, crossed to the other 
 side, and lay down on a pile of clean straw. 
 I could not see the hidden form from where 
 I lay, nor did I give another thought to its 
 presence, looking to the priming of my pistols, 
 and loosening my swordbelt that I might rest 
 with more ease. Yet, weary as I was, I lay 
 there for some time, staring up at the roof, 
 my mind busy with events. 
 
 All that had occurred to place me in this 
 predicament passed before me in review. Up 
 to this moment I had had no time for thought 
 except to escape, to penetrate the closing lines 
 of the allies. But now memory returned and 
 I saw again the mess-tent, the table strewn 
 with cards, the faces of the men crowding 
 about me; I heard the oath and felt the blow; 
 I looked once more into the hated features 
 
 [9]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 of d'Enville, and felt the thrill as our sword 
 blades touched. Ay! it was a good fight, and 
 a fair one, but to kill d'Enville a captain 
 of the staff meant death. There would be 
 no mercy from his friend, Lord Clare. And I 
 had killed him ! even now the stain of the chev 
 alier's blood was on my sword. 
 
 As he lay there on the floor, Bain, Kelly, 
 O'Brien flung themselves between, as some 
 started to seize me, and won me free passage 
 to the door. Dazed as I was I knew what 
 must be done. Whose horse I took God 
 knows, but there were loaded weapons in the 
 holsters, and the steed bore me well. A bullet 
 followed, but by then we were speeding off in 
 the night. 
 
 Twice they stopped me at Antoine and 
 Fontenoy but I had the word: 'T was what 
 O'Brien had whispered in my ear, and, think 
 ing me an aide to Saxe, I found free passage. 
 Oh, well, that was all over. However fierce 
 the chase it could never come thus far afield, 
 for the Austrians were between. I could rest 
 until night, and then ride on, trusting the 
 
 [10]
 
 THE FUGITIVE 
 
 darkness. Perchance I might find a peasant 
 who would guide me by some secret path. 
 
 It was quiet outside in the dawn: no sound 
 disturbed me, and I fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A SQUADRON OF GUARDS 
 
 1MUST have slept for hours undisturbed, 
 for when I did awake the sun was in the 
 west, and a ray, stealing through a crevice of 
 the roof into my eyes, aroused me. All was so 
 wondrously still as to seem strange to one long 
 inured to the ceaseless noise of camps. Feel 
 ing hungry again I descended to the deserted 
 room below, helping myself to food and drink, 
 and pushing open the shutter that I might 
 look up and down the road. It lay white and 
 undisturbed in the sunlight. There were no 
 deep ruts visible, such as passing artillery 
 would have left, and no hoof marks to show 
 that any considerable body of horse had lately 
 passed that way. Why then had the villagers 
 deserted their homes? What fear could 
 account for this inn being left unguarded? 
 Surely the dead body upstairs could not be 
 the sole reason. A murder might bring 
 
 [12]
 
 A SQUADRON OF GUARDS 
 
 momentary terror to those concerned al 
 though God knows death by violence was 
 common enough thereabout in those days 
 yet it would not prevent return. The guiltless 
 would swiftly come back as soon as reason 
 asserted itself. There must be some terror 
 here of which I was ignorant, some knowledge 
 of the movement of troops this way, or, per 
 chance, a superstitious horror more deadly 
 still. 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders, sipping the wine, 
 careless of what the cause might be. I was 
 young, a soldier, content to take things as they 
 came, confident in my strength and wit. What 
 ever came I would meet the onset as best a 
 man might, and meanwhile here was food and 
 shelter what could I ask more? It was 
 some hours yet until night, and I lay down 
 on a bench to wait the shadows, pillowing my 
 head on my jacket while endeavoring to revive 
 some definite memory of the country I must 
 traverse through the dark. It was vague 
 enough, that road to Paris, only I would be 
 safer to ride between Douai and Valenciennes, 
 
 [13]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 both of which would contain garrisons. Once 
 beyond Lourches I might proceed at ease, save 
 for a watchful eye after stragglers, who would 
 cut my throat for a song. Sooth 1 it did not 
 look to be so hard a task, and I closed my eyes 
 again. 
 
 I must have slept, for the trampling of 
 horses without, and the tone of a loud voice, 
 giving some indistinct order, startled me to 
 my feet. It was already dusk within, although 
 I caught a gleam of light through the broken 
 shutter. I grasped my jacket, hesitating, as 
 uncertain what to do as to what had happened. 
 There were men outside, and horses how 
 many I could not judge, yet surely quite a 
 squad from the jingle of accouterments, and 
 the restless tread of hoofs. Whoever they were 
 they must be soldiers and enemies, and I 
 backed slowly toward the ladder leading to 
 the loft, scarcely venturing to breathe, and lis 
 tening for every sound. There was no way 
 out, no path of escape: I could only hope to 
 hide in the darkness above. If they had no sus 
 picions there would be little search. I was
 
 A SQUADRON OF GUARDS 
 
 half way up when a hand roughly shook the 
 door; then a heavy boot crashed against it. 
 
 " They Ve barred the door, sir," said a 
 coarse English voice, and the boot crashed 
 again against the hard oak panel. 
 
 " Then your kicking is waste of good 
 leather," and I could distinguish the jingle of 
 a steel scabbard, as the leader swung down 
 from his saddle. " Look about for something 
 with which to force the lock. St. Annel the 
 place is as bare as a stripped chicken! Hear 
 you any sound of the rascals within? " 
 
 " Not a peep, sir. 'T is my faith they Ve 
 taken to the hills at sight of us." 
 
 " And let us hope left us an inn stocked to 
 our needs," with a laugh. " 'T is God's mercy, 
 and not to be frowned at. What find you, 
 lads?" 
 
 " There is naught here, sir," replied another 
 voice, " of size for a ram." 
 
 " No? then pry away at the shutters with 
 your swords. Lift Saunders on your shoulders 
 so! Once inside, and we have the castle. 
 Ah ! easily done, men ; now rip it out."
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 I could see the fellow outlined against the 
 streak of sky, as he thrust a forked beard into 
 the narrow opening. He was wrenching still 
 at the obstinate shutter, and, taking swift 
 advantage of the noise to conceal my own 
 movements, I crept into the attic, and snug 
 gled down under the straw. I could hear as 
 plainly as in the room below, but the flooring, 
 although warped and ill-laid, prevented my 
 seeing anything. My heart beat rapidly, for 
 I fully comprehended now the peril which 
 would follow my discovery. The Austrians, 
 or Hollanders, would have served me better 
 than these brawling English. They would 
 show small mercy to one wearing my uniform. 
 And what could they be doing here? 'Twas 
 said in camp the Duke of Cumberland was 
 to the north, yet here surely was a squadron 
 of Guards, and very much at home. 
 
 I could distinguish the movements below, 
 as the fellow dropped from the window, 
 crossed the floor, striking against the table 
 in the dark, and swearing vigorously, as he 
 unbarred the door. 
 
 [16]
 
 A SQUADRON OF GUARDS 
 
 "What is it, Saunders?" called out the 
 voice of the officer. "Ah! a cracked shin: 
 scarce occasion for so much fuss. Start a fire 
 in the grate, man, and Austen make a search 
 for lights. What think you has become of 
 mine host? " 
 
 " Frightened away by our last visit, no 
 doubt, Captain," replied another, laughing. 
 " He was a cowardly fool, and the Lambs 
 were frolicksome." 
 
 " Yet he had no knowledge of our return." 
 
 " No, but suspicioned that others of our 
 trade might be abroad to ride this way. I 
 wonder what the louts did with the body." 
 
 " Ah! faith, but I had forgotten that, Dorn. 
 Here two of you men : flash a lanthorn up the 
 ladder there, and see if there be a body above. 
 If so, pass it outside." 
 
 I could see the faint glimmer of light as the 
 fellows came through the opening, grumbling 
 at their unpleasant task. I lay motionless, 
 scarcely daring to breathe, for I recognized 
 them now as a detachment of Shepard's 
 Lambs, and knew my death warrant signed 
 [17]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 were I once discovered. They flashed the 
 lanthorn my way, but the pile of quilts caught 
 their attention first, and thus they came upon 
 the corpse with no delay. And they made 
 little enough of their job, thrusting the dead 
 body down the ladder into the grasp of others 
 below, joking coarsely as they did so, and then 
 clambering after, without even a glance 
 behind. The captain halted the squad, and 
 must have stepped up to have glimpse at the 
 dead man's face, for I heard him say: 
 
 " Enough of that horseplay, lads. It 's the 
 fellow, Dorn: I wish he 'd lived that I might 
 question him about the mission of my lady, 
 for never was there a hussy with a tighter lip. 
 Ay! bury him; back a bit from the road. Go 
 with them yourself, Dorn, and then bring in 
 the princess or whatever the witch may be 
 for \ is my humor she sup with the two of 
 us here. There seems to be wine in plenty, 
 and it may loosen her tongue." 
 
 " Am I to bury the body first. Captain Awl- 
 right? " 
 
 " St. Christopher yes. She does n't know 
 [18]
 
 A SQUADRON OF GUARDS 
 
 the man is dead, nor what he may have told us : 
 nor do I mean she shall. I '11 match her wits, 
 the vixen, before she faces the duke. It 's my 
 faith there is a tale here worth telling. Oh! 
 Saunders, bring me a bottle, and search the 
 larder: there will be three at table here." 
 
 Encouraged by the shuffling of feet, I crept 
 out of the straw covert, and across to the head 
 of the ladder. Here, crouched in the dark 
 ness, I could gaze down on the scene in the 
 room below with slight danger of discovery. 
 The lanthorn sat upon the large table, but it 
 was the glow of the fire which lighted the 
 apartment. A soldier still poked this into 
 brighter flame, while another, short and 
 slender as a boy, was busy at the row of kegs. 
 I could not see distinctly the faces of either, 
 but their uniform was that of the English 
 Guard. 
 
 The officer sat alone, half sprawled on the 
 bench, bottle and glass already before him, 
 his jack-boots spattered with mud, and his face 
 shaded by one arm. He was a man of forty I 
 judged, a big fellow, with bronzed cheeks, and 
 
 [19]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 a prominent nose. His dark moustache forked 
 out in soldierly fashion, and he possessed the 
 look of one who had seen hard service, and 
 could give and take stout blows. His uniform, 
 neat enough, yet well worn by campaign, had 
 evidently been cut by a master-tailor, and I 
 cataloged him as a bit of a dandy when occa 
 sion served. Yet there was nothing weak in 
 the look of his plain leather scabbard, nor in 
 the brown, muscled hand that gripped the 
 glass of liquor. And the day must have gone 
 well with him, for he was in rare good humor, 
 humming a merry tune, with eyes roaming 
 idly about the room. Nor was he averse to 
 joking with his men. 
 
 " Some tang to that stuff, Saunders," he 
 commented gaily. " These Frenchmen know 
 good wine, if only they show you the right 
 bottle. You must have found mine host's 
 private stock. 'T is to be hoped it holds out 
 until the princess comes. Zounds, but a nip of 
 this ought to loosen even her closed tongue. 
 What have you there in the shape of food to 
 serve at the table?" 
 
 ['20]
 
 A SQUADRON OF GUARDS 
 
 " Poor enough, my lord : a bit of lean pork 
 with oaten bread." 
 
 " Not to be sneezed at by a hungry man. 
 'T is more than we might expect to find had 
 the Austrians passed this way. I take it the 
 road was not on their field map praised be 
 the gods! Ah! what is it, Watson? " 
 
 The guardsman who had stepped inside the 
 door, saluted stiffly. 
 
 " A horse with French cavalry equipment is 
 in the building at the rear, sir. Lieutenant 
 Dorn sent me to tell you, sir." 
 
 "What! only one? Surely we can have 
 little to fear from a stray trooper. Is the 
 animal warm, as though lately ridden? " 
 
 " Not warm now, my lord, but the beast 
 had been hard drove enough before being 
 stabled." 
 
 " And no trace of the rider? " 
 
 " None; we have searched." 
 
 " Piff! the animal may have been stolen 
 from some dead trooper, and hidden there. 
 But have a guard set at the door, Watson, and 
 patrol the road. Another bottle, Saunders 
 
 [21]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 't is so good the one but wets my appetite, and 
 I would fain be in fettle for conversation, so 
 as to do the honors for my lady. Save us ! but 
 she is a disdainful witch, full of a proud con 
 ceit. 'T will be a pity to turn her over to such 
 mercy as Lord Hay might vouchsafe ay! 
 set the glasses here, and the plates. By faith! 
 't is indeed a fair tankard, worthy of the brew. 
 Campaigning in Flanders would not be so bad 
 man, could we strike a tavern every sundown. 
 So, 'tis well spread now tell Lieutenant 
 Dorn to bring the fair one hither." 
 
 The soldier disappeared, leaving the outer 
 door ajar. Back and forth in the glow of 
 firelight streaming from within a sentry paced. 
 I could glimpse his limbs, and the glitter of 
 his scabbard, and somewhere out in the dark 
 ness beyond a tenor voice was singing an Eng 
 lish song. Then suddenly the guard stood 
 motionless, and a man and woman appeared 
 together in the opening. 
 
 [22]
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 THE lady stepped first across the thresh 
 old, the man, Dorn no doubt from his 
 officer's uniform, pausing to close the door. 
 Wrapped as she was in a long gray riding 
 cape, with hood drawn up, I could only 
 observe the light firmness of her step, and the 
 proud poise of what seemed a slender, girlish 
 figure. But, as she halted in the full glare of 
 the firelight, facing the man at the table, who 
 still retained his seat, she loosened the clasp 
 at her throat, pushing back the concealing 
 hood with a white hand. I felt the blood leap 
 in my veins in sudden recognition. Where 
 before had I seen that face, those dark, dis 
 dainful eyes, that mouth which seemed to 
 smile even in its anger? Somewhere surely, 
 and yet, for the life of me, I could not recall 
 where, or when. I stared at her, forgetful of 
 my own peril, of discovery, groping vainly 
 in the dim past. I could not remember I had 
 
 [23]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 seen the girl before, nor could I believe I 
 would ever have forgotten had there been once 
 a meeting. Yet the face fascinated me with 
 its strange familiarity a tantalizing mem 
 ory to which I could not give a name. Was 
 it merely a resemblance to some one else? If 
 so, who? Every slight movement served to 
 deepen my perplexity, yet failed to awaken my 
 sluggish recollection. It must have been years 
 ago, if at all, and that could not be, for the 
 girl was young, scarcely twenty to my judg 
 ment 'Twas odd how the impression clung; 
 yet struggle, as I would, I could not escape its 
 haunting. 
 
 The memory attached to her voice also, full, 
 clear, thrilling with indignation, as she stood 
 there, her eyes on the sprawling captain. 
 
 " What new indignity is to be offered me 
 now, Monsieur? " she asked in French, ignor 
 ing Dorn who waited, grinning at her shoul 
 der. 
 
 " None whatever," and the officer, as though 
 suddenly aware of his graceless posture, took 
 his muddied boots off the bench, and stood up, 
 
 [24]
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 bowing in semblance of gallantry. " Rather 
 we contemplate an act of courtesy rare enough 
 in this campaign. We have, by the fortunes 
 of war, come into possession of food and wine, 
 together with a cheerful fire, and a roof. 'T is 
 our pleasure to share these with our fair 
 guest " 
 
 " Your prisoner, you mean." 
 
 " Indeed, Mademoiselle, I do not know 
 which you may prove to be. To be sure, we 
 are in duty bound to detain you. Yet, if your 
 tale proves true the tables may quickly be 
 turned." 
 
 " My tale? " in marked surprise. " I have 
 told no tale." 
 
 "Of which I am fully aware; yet surely 
 you have one worthy our ears. 'T is not like 
 a gentlewoman, such as I perceive you to be, 
 to ride alone these Flemish roads without a 
 reason. 'Twill be easier far to tell the story 
 to me than to Cumberland he is a rough 
 old hound." 
 
 " There is no need why I should repeat it 
 to either," she responded shortly. " 'T is no 
 
 [25]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 crime to be a French woman, nor to ride. 
 Your men have searched me, and found 
 nothing to their purpose, and if you have 
 brought me here," she glanced about con 
 temptuously, " to question, 't will be waste of 
 time. I will not answer you: no! nor your 
 Duke of Cumberland." 
 
 The captain laughed. 
 
 " Let that be as it may," he answered, in 
 seeming good humor. " The world wags, and 
 the duke can look after himself. I am but 
 a blunt soldier myself, wearied with cam 
 paign, and glad enough to look again on so fair 
 a face as yours. 'Twas that we might sup 
 together that I had you brought here ayl 
 the three of us with much good cheer. Come, 
 Mademoiselle, the chair is yours; we will 
 share the bench." 
 
 She did not move, although her slight form 
 seemed to straighten. 
 
 " You mistake, Monsieur; I choose my com 
 pany." 
 
 " Ay! but could you do better? Though I 
 am only a Captain of Guards, yet they call me 
 [26]
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 Lord Dalhousie in England, and Dorn here 
 has an estate in Kent, with a castle on it, where 
 a king has been guest." 
 
 She turned her eyes from the one face to the 
 other. 
 
 " You are ranked as gentlemen in your own 
 country? " 
 
 The captain bowed. 
 
 " 'T is not questioned." 
 
 " Then why not act the part here, Mes 
 sieurs? I am a woman alone: I will not say 
 of gentle blood, but of respectability. I am 
 no woman from the camp, to be treated with 
 insult. I beg you consider before it be too 
 late: there are those who would draw sword 
 for me." 
 
 " Ay ! I know that beyond a doubt. Prithee ! 
 I would do it myself; yet 'tis not likely the 
 threat of a sword point would greatly frighten 
 one brought up to the trade what say you, 
 Dorn?" 
 
 " That I would rather enjoy the exercise," 
 responded the lieutenant, a dapper young 
 blood, disposing himself carelessly on the 
 
 [27]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 bench. " 'T is a week, or more, since I crossed 
 blades in quarrel." 
 
 " With best of excuse," and Awlright 
 laughed, " for 't is that length of time we have 
 been on scout, with not a cowardly Frenchman 
 to be seen. Mademoiselle, perchance you 
 could tell us where they have gone for cover? " 
 
 " Perchance I could, but I will not. 'T is 
 my thought you will discover to your cost." 
 
 " May the gods be good. It has been like a 
 fox chase thus far, and I have forgotten I am 
 a soldier." 
 
 " Nor is that all you have forgotten, Mon 
 
 sieur." 
 
 " You mean to be a gentleman? Forsooth, 
 that is no more than a point of view. To my 
 mind now, there is little enough you can com 
 plain about. You are under guard, of course. 
 I could do no less to one striving to pass our 
 lines in secret. The orders are strict, and Lord 
 Hay does not take kindly to excuses. I Ve had 
 my lesson, Madam. Yet I have been gentle 
 no man of my troop has laid hand on you, nor 
 spoke uncouth. Is this not true? What then? 
 
 [28]
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 Is it because I ask you here to bear us com 
 pany at the best meal we have had for a month 
 past? " 
 
 " I was not asked, Monsieur, I was com 
 pelled. When I requested to be excused I was 
 threatened and driven." 
 
 " I knew that not. Yet why seek excuse? 
 There are ladies of the court who would 
 gladly sup with me : ay, a many of them." 
 
 " Of the English Court: I have heard they 
 were not particular." 
 
 The captain choked back a swift oath, his 
 cheeks reddening to sudden anger. 
 
 " 'T is enough, you little spit-fire. I '11 no 
 longer play gentleman with you. By Gad ! I 'm 
 the master here, and more used to camps than 
 courts, I '11 admit. So sit you down, Madam. 
 Whether or not it be your choice to compan 
 ion with us, I care nothing. Stolen fruit is the 
 sweeter they say, and I 'm in a mood to have 
 amusement. Ay! you 'd better do as I say with 
 out more words, or I '11 find ways to make you 
 your eyes do n't frighten me." 
 
 I thought for the instant she would refuse,
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 and I am sure it was no sense of fear which 
 finally led her to action. There was naught 
 but contempt in her face, as her hand gripped 
 the back of the chair, yet she sat quietly down, 
 fronting the two of them, but far enough back 
 from the table to afford an opportunity for 
 attempt at escape. 
 
 " So then, I am here for your amusement, 
 Monsieur," she said coldly. " 'T is a frank 
 confession." 
 
 "The word may have been ill-chosen: my 
 French is not of the best. Rather it is infor 
 mation I seek. Saunders," and he waved his 
 hand, " you may serve; a bottle of wine first." 
 
 The young woman remained silent, watch 
 ing the soldier, as he came silently forward 
 and filled the empty glasses. Her head was 
 bowed slightly, concealing her features from 
 me, crouching as I was almost directly above 
 them. Evidently the captain felt that he had 
 won his point, for he lifted his glass, admiring 
 the rich coloring of the wine, and his voice, 
 although still loud, had lost its sting. 
 
 " I can recommend this, as I sampled it 
 [30]
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 before you came," he said boastingly. " To 
 our better acquaintance, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " A toast in which I have no desire to join," 
 she returned firmly. " Come, Monsieur, let us 
 be through with this nonsense. I am your pris 
 oner, nothing more. I will neither eat, nor 
 drink with you. Besides I have no informa 
 tion to give." 
 
 The man leaned forward, staring into her 
 face, and brought down his fist crashing onto 
 the plank. 
 
 " You are a fool then! " he retorted angrily. 
 " By Gad, you think I am hard; wait 'till you 
 front the others. They 're not likely to care 
 for your pretty face, or your fine manners. 
 See here, my girl, listen to what I say, and 
 show some sense. I 'm in command here : it is 
 my word which holds you, or sets you free. 
 Tell me your tale, and, if it be possible, I '11 let 
 you go ay, I '11 send an escort with you. Is 
 that fair offer enough? " 
 
 The change in the man puzzled her; I 
 could see that by the little frown between her 
 eyes, the compression of her lips. Saunders 
 
 [31]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 came forward with plates and cups, and nei 
 ther spoke until he had gone. Dorn leaned 
 back against the wall, evidently enjoying the 
 situation, and indifferent as to its termination. 
 
 "Well?" growled Awlright impatiently. 
 
 " What is it you wish to know? " 
 
 " Your name and residence, Mademoiselle; 
 why you were endeavoring to ride through our 
 lines at night, and who the man was that was 
 killed?" 
 
 " And if I answer I go free? " 
 
 " That must depend," he laughed. " You 
 say I am no gentleman, Mademoiselle; but, 
 by Gad! I am a soldier." 
 
 " Very well, Monsieur: I will try if you be 
 even that," she replied quietly, determined on 
 her course. " I am Henrietta Valois, a maid 
 of Cambrai, daughter of the Commissionaire 
 you know him?" 
 
 Awlright shook his head. 
 
 " 'T is not a town T have ever seen 
 a French village? " 
 
 " To the south ten miles," her face brighten 
 ing. " I was at Douai with my aunt 
 [33]
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 Madame D'Estelle, by the east gate, Monsieur 
 when the news came that my father was 
 about to die. It was the Austrians who had 
 shot him at his own door, and the man who 
 rode to tell me was our servant Francois 
 La Barge. He knew the road, and would 
 guide me back. We rode at night, deeming 
 the passage would be safer as the country be 
 tween was patrolled, and we possessed no 
 passes. We chose an obscure way, and were 
 unchallenged until we met you. It was Fran 
 cois La Barge who was killed." 
 
 She hid her face in her hands. 
 
 " 'T is a sweet tale," commented Awlright 
 mockingly, with a glance toward his lieuten 
 ant, " did we not chance to recognize the inno 
 cent servant. Saints alive! the fellow was our 
 prisoner three days ago, but escaped us." 
 
 There was the tramp of horses' hoofs with 
 out, the challenge of a sentinel, and the gruff 
 sound of a voice speaking German. Both offi 
 cers were instantly on their feet, and, at a 
 word of command from Awlright, Dorn 
 slipped through the door into the darkness. 
 [33]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 The captain swore, staring at the girl who 
 had also arisen, her hands clasping the back 
 of the chair. 
 
 " By St. George, a detachment of Dutch," 
 he exclaimed. " Little as I think of your 
 story, it will not do for them to find you here. 
 They are scavenger wolves. Wait ah, I 
 have it! Dorn will hold them there a minute. 
 Up the ladder with you to the loft, and draw 
 it after; then lie down, still as a mouse, until 
 I get rid of the fat hogs. T will not be long, 
 or I miss my guess I have no stomach for 
 the Dutch as comrades. Hey! Saunders, clear 
 the table here, and be quick about it. If those 
 swine smell food they never will leave. Shut 
 the door tight and now, Madam! " 
 
 The lady ignored his extended hands, hold 
 ing her skirt closely, as she stepped to the foot 
 of the ladder. Without doubt she fully rec 
 ognized her danger rude as these English 
 had been, Dutch or Austrian troops would be 
 infinitely worse and thought at that mo 
 ment only of escaping discovery. I drew 
 silently back into the deeper shadows, and 
 [34]
 
 WHAT I OVERHEARD 
 
 huddled beneath the eaves. The light stream 
 ing up through the opening enabled me to see 
 her, as she bent over and drew up the light 
 ladder, laying it quietly aside, a portion of its 
 weight on my foot Yet I never stirred; my 
 eyes watching her face as revealed by the yel 
 low flare of the candle below. 
 
 [35] 

 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 I MEET THE LADY 
 
 I HEARD Awlright speak hastily and in 
 low tone, likely a last word of warning, 
 and then the rattle of a scabbard as he re- 
 buckled his sword belt. From where I now 
 crouched no view of the room below could 
 be obtained, but I knew the captain stood 
 waiting. It seemed to me the others were 
 awhile coming, the faint sound of voices out 
 side betokening some controversy. In the 
 silence I dare not reveal my presence to the 
 young woman, for, in her first startled sur 
 prise, she might make some alarm for Awl- 
 right to overhear. If the newcomers entered, 
 and they got into conversation below, then the 
 attempt at communication might be made 
 with less peril. 
 
 Why I should address her, or permit her 
 to know of my presence, was a puzzle. I 
 was myself a fugitive, marvelously fortunate 
 
 [36]
 
 / MEET THE LADY 
 
 thus far to escape discovery. Indeed, as things 
 stood, there was small choice whether I fell 
 into the clutch of the allies, or that of the 
 French. If the former my fate would be 
 likely that of a spy, the sentence swift and 
 merciless; while if the latter I would face a 
 court martial, with a result scarcely less seri 
 ous. Yet in spite of all this I was a soldier 
 wearing the uniform of France. If I had de 
 serted the colors, it was merely to save my 
 own life, animated by the hope that my story 
 once told to the King would bring pardon. 
 That was my only chance, for Saxe, sick and 
 irritated, would never forgive or forget. But 
 Louis XV he had pledged me once his fa 
 vor, and I would ask it now. There lay my 
 only chance. Still it was not this, altogether, 
 which decided my action. I remained in 
 spirit, and through training, a French soldier. 
 With small knowledge of the cause for which 
 I fought I yet remained loyal to my comrades. 
 Never could I aid either English or Austrian, 
 or be guilty of treachery. 'Twas not in my 
 blood. And this girl was serving France! 
 
 [371 
 
 409378
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 How, in what measure, I could not determine, 
 but her desperate ride through the night, seek 
 ing to pierce the lines of the allies; the fact 
 that she had refused to account for herself 
 to this English captain, and then later told 
 him a false tale, left me in no doubt as to her 
 mission. If I could serve her I would serve 
 France. The service, if of sufficient impor 
 tance and peril, might even atone for my 
 breach of discipline; would, at least, add po 
 tency to my plea for pardon. 
 
 Ay! and I wanted to serve her. Whoever 
 she was, and whatever the cause leading to 
 her predicament, her personality appealed 
 oddly to me. It was more than a mere haunt 
 ing recollections of her face a vague feeling 
 we had met before it was the woman her 
 self which appealed. I felt that she was 
 worthy; that she possessed character, true 
 womanhood. I had been brought up in a 
 rough school of war, and had met few of gen 
 tle blood whom I could call friends, yet I 
 recognized my own class the evidences of 
 good birth. She was no peasant, no daugh- 
 
 [38]
 
 / MEET THE LADY 
 
 ter of a commissionaire, in some obscure vil 
 lage. The purity of her speech, the proud 
 manner in which she parried with the Eng 
 lishman, her low, modulated voice, all con 
 spired to make her disguise of clothing the 
 more manifest 
 
 I watched her face in the candlelight as 
 she bent above the opening in the floor and 
 looked down. I could see her now more 
 clearly than when she had been below a 
 slender, rounded girl of twenty, with dark 
 hair and eyes, the latter shadowed by long 
 lashes, the lips arched, the skin clear and 
 white, the contour of the face cleanly outlined. 
 My heart beat faster as I looked, and the red 
 blood pulsed in my veins. Right or wrong, 
 for France or what not, it was not in my na 
 ture to leave her to the tender mercy of such 
 wolves as scoured the land. Awlright was 
 but biding his time, and making sure of a clear 
 field, to prove himself a beast: and as to Dorn 
 I shut my teeth hard at memory of his sar 
 castic grin, and waxed moustache. By all 
 the gods! they should never boast in English 
 
 [39]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 camp of this night's play, nor hold her up to 
 laughter. Not until they won over my sword 
 point, at least. It was a vow to the Virgin. 
 
 The door below opened noisily, and several 
 men came in, their swords clanking on their 
 spurs. I watched her draw farther back, out 
 of the direct radius of light, yet remaining 
 close enough to the opening, to gaze down at 
 the scene as though fascinated. I felt that I 
 could imagine what she saw by the changing 
 expression of her face, and I needed this guid 
 ance, for the men were speaking German in 
 a gruff rumble which prevented my distin 
 guishing so much as a sentence, except as 
 Awlright occasionally interjected a bit of vig 
 orous English. 
 
 So far as I could determine the captain 
 knew nothing of German, but apparently 
 Dorn spoke it with fluency, and acted there 
 fore as interpreter. I had no difficulty in rec 
 ognizing his nasal voice even in the foreign 
 tongue, and, between his explanations and 
 Awlright's sharp questioning, I made shrewd 
 guess at what was transpiring below. The 
 [40]
 
 I MEET THE LADY 
 
 troop was not Dutch, but Austrian, and had 
 taken the wrong road, and the men were cross 
 and in ill-humor from long marching. All 
 they desired was food and a guide, but asked 
 these in such gruff tone of command as to an 
 ger both Englishmen. There was little love, 
 but much jealousy, between the allies, who, 
 in truth, sincerely hated each other, and, for 
 a moment, I actually thought the fellows 
 would come to blows. There was swearing 
 a plenty in three languages, but the guards 
 men finally came to their senses, and this ex 
 change of sentiment quieted down. Beyond 
 doubt Awlright realized that the easiest and 
 quickest way to be rid of the party was grace 
 fully to accede to its demands. The Austri- 
 ans must have outnumbered his force two to 
 one, and were in a mood to help themselves. 
 I thought Dorn told him that in English, for 
 I distinctly heard the disgusted reply of the 
 still irate captain. 
 
 " By Gad ! I guess you 're right it 's the 
 only way to be rid of the swine. A battalion, 
 you say? Let them forage for themselves 
 
 [41]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 then ; ay! anywhere in the.village they know 
 the trade. I '11 have Saunders attend to these, 
 and when they are full they can go to the 
 devil for all I care. Tell them so in their 
 beastly language. A guide? yes I '11 give them 
 a guide, and anything else that will help to 
 get their ugly faces out of my sight." 
 
 I heard Dorn explaining all this, in more 
 diplomatic speech, no doubt, and with many 
 gutteral questions interrupting him. Then the 
 door opened and closed, while chairs and 
 benches scraped on the floor, and sidearms 
 rattled, indicating that the party was making 
 itself at ease. Awlright called to the trooper, 
 who came forth from the back room, and re 
 ceived his orders. There was a growl of 
 voices in conversation, a loud laugh over some 
 joke, and the clink of glasses. I could distin 
 guish one fellow making effort to talk French, 
 probably trying his accomplishment on the 
 captain, but I was not sufficiently interested 
 to learn the result. Enough for me to know 
 they were all busily engaged over good liq 
 uor, and unsuspecting of any concealment 
 
 [42]
 
 I MEET THE LADY 
 
 above. Awl right knew where his prisoner was 
 hiding, but would have no fear of her. In 
 deed, his very knowledge of her hiding in the 
 loft would prevent his exhibiting any uneasi 
 ness which might arouse the suspicions of the 
 others. His only desire was to feed the un 
 welcome callers, and get them on their road 
 as soon as possible. 
 
 I sat up, drawing my foot forth from its 
 imprisonment beneath the ladder noiselessly. 
 The girl, intent on what was occurring below, 
 and deeming herself utterly alone, remained 
 unconscious of my presence. She was breath 
 ing quickly, her eyes shaded by an uplifted 
 hand. What would she do when she heard 
 my voice? Would the sudden alarm startle 
 her into an exclamation? I hesitated an in 
 stant, and yet there was no other means of 
 approach. If I should move forward, unan 
 nounced, the result might prove even more 
 disastrous. To hear something unseen stir 
 ring in the darkness would be far more apt 
 to frighten her than the sound of a friendly 
 voice. They were jabbering away below, their 
 
 [43]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 tongues already loosened by wine, while the 
 rattle of dishes told that Saunders was busy 
 at the table. I must assume the risk, and trust 
 to the discretion of the lady there was no 
 other choice. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said softly in French, 
 " do not cry out, or be frightened. I am a 
 friend." 
 
 Her head was uplifted, her face turned 
 toward me at the first sound. She gave one 
 quick gasp of astonishment, and I could mark 
 the effort with which she controlled herself, 
 as she stared into the dark. I doubt if she 
 could even perceive my dim outlines in the 
 gloom, but the tone of my voice must have 
 given courage. 
 
 "Monsieur, where are you?" she ques 
 tioned, the words trembling, and so low I 
 barely heard. 
 
 " Here," and I moved slightly to where the 
 reflection of light gave her a dim glimpse of 
 me. " I was indeed afraid I might frighten 
 you, but you are brave." 
 
 "No; I think not that, Monsieur; I I 
 [44]
 
 I MEET THE LADY 
 
 was startled at first yes. But there is more 
 for me to fear down there. Tell me first who 
 are you a Frenchman?" 
 
 " Not by birth, yet a soldier in the army of 
 France." 
 
 " Of what command, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Royal Irlandais." 
 
 I could perceive the slight semblance of a 
 smile about her lips, a relaxation of expres 
 sion to her face. 
 
 " Oh, an Irishman," as though in relief. 
 " That is what I caught in your speech the 
 accent. I thought maybe you deceived me. 
 But now I know how it is. I have met those 
 of the Royal Irlandais the Count Dillon, 
 the Lord Clare " . 
 
 "You have met those?" I asked, it being 
 my turn to express astonishment. " How 
 could that be, Mademoiselle? You have seen 
 them? heard of them, perhaps?" 
 
 " Ay! and talked with them. I spoke with 
 out thought, Monsieur. The words came in 
 gladness when I learned who you were. But 
 surely there is no harm for me to confess I 
 
 [45]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 have acquaintance with your officers. Why 
 not? " 
 
 " Because I overheard your conversation 
 with the Englishman, when you named your 
 self Henrietta Valois, the daughter of the 
 Commissionaire at Cambrai." 
 
 " And if I failed to tell him the truth is it 
 a crime? " 
 
 " No," I hastened to say. " Indeed I 
 thought it unlikely. You did not seem of that 
 rank to me." 
 
 "For which I thank you, Monsieur; you 
 thought me what then? " 
 
 ".A gentlewoman, none else." 
 
 " Yet, the situation puzzled you, no doubt. 
 And I cannot judge you, for I can barely see 
 your outline. The advantage is all yours. 
 What is your rank, Monsieur? " 
 
 " A volunteer lieutenant." 
 
 " Ah! let me see; I have heard Lord Clare 
 explain the grade. 'T is if I mistake not, a 
 position of honor given to cadets of good fam 
 ily. You bear a name then? " 
 
 " Not one likely to mean much to you, Ma 
 [46]
 
 / MEET THE LADY 
 
 demoiselle. Let me draw nearer where the 
 light give you glimpse of my face. I am 
 not a cutthroat, nor do I believe I look like 
 one You can see me now? My name is 
 Arthur Shea, a cadet of the house of Ber 
 wick." 
 
 Our eyes met, and I could seem to read in 
 the expression of her own, the confidence with 
 which she regarded me. It was a dim light 
 at best in which to judge character, and strange 
 condition amid which to make acquaintance, 
 but her hesitancy lasted scarcely a moment. 
 Impulsively she held forth her hand. 
 
 " I do not know whether you are young or 
 old, Monsieur," she said slowly. " The light 
 baffles my eyes, and you have the look of one 
 who has passed through much of peril and 
 hardship." 
 
 " The trials of war," I answered soberly. 
 " I became a soldier at fifteen." 
 
 "And now?" 
 
 " I am twenty-seven ; twelve years of serv 
 ice ages a man." 
 
 " Yes, I know. My brother is a soldier, an 
 [47]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 officer in the Regiment du Roi. Yours, I take 
 it, will be the regiment of Berwick? " 
 
 I bowed, surprised at her knowledge of mil 
 itary affairs, and eager enough by now to learn 
 her identity. Yet I would not ask the ques 
 tion, although it trembled on my lips. In spite 
 of her effort to speak freely, the lady had a 
 proud way with her that repelled familiarity. 
 If she wished me to know, the truth would be 
 told in its own time. A moment she remained 
 silent, her glance down the opening into the 
 room below, and then back to my face. She 
 seemed in doubt what to do, and in the silence 
 I could hear the gruff voices of the Austrians, 
 one of them making an attempt to sing a 
 sentimental ditty. 
 
 " You do not recognize me, Monsieur? " 
 
 "No; I confess your face haunts me with 
 its strange familiarity. I may have seen you 
 at some time, although I am sure we have 
 never met." 
 
 "Tis not likely; the Irish Brigade has 
 seldom been at Paris." 
 
 " But twice during my service, and then 
 [48]
 
 / MEET THE LADY 
 
 merely in garrison for a week to be reviewed 
 by the King." 
 
 " I remember; and you yourself? " 
 
 " I bore message once from the Nether 
 lands, a dispatch of some import," I explained, 
 " and was given royal audience that I might 
 be questioned for details. 'T was my fortune 
 later to do a service to the King." 
 
 " At Casse de Fer, Monsieur? " 
 
 "Yes you heard?" 
 
 " The tale was told about Paris. Louis him 
 self made much of the matter. So I know 
 you now, Monsieur, and can trust you. I am 
 Camille d'Enville." 
 
 [49]
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 I FELT as if she had struck me in the face. 
 For the moment my heart seemed to stop 
 its beating, and yet I doubt if I moved a mus 
 cle, or if the expression of my face changed. 
 In that moment the whole situation flashed 
 across my mind. Camille d'Enville! Ay! 
 that was it. It was her brother I had killed 
 back in the camp yonder ran him through 
 in quarrel over the gaming table! Of course, 
 I remembered now, the man was an officer of 
 the Regiment du Roi, serving on Saxe's staff. 
 And it was memory of his face which had 
 haunted me why, now I could trace the re 
 semblance, the dark glow of the eyes, the smile 
 of the mouth, the peculiarity of manner. Yes, 
 it was all plain enough Camille d'Enville! 
 I tried to remember what I had heard of her. 
 There were scraps of camp gossip that had 
 found lodgment in my mind rumors of pre- 
 [50]
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 ferment, of kingly favor. My brain grasped 
 vaguely at these, piecing them together. Af 
 ter all it was little enough the d'Envilles 
 were from Chalons. I remembered that well, 
 for once we had marched the road from Or 
 leans into Luxemburg, and Berwick had 
 pointed out the place, a great gray castle 
 crowning a hill to the left as we passed. The 
 old marquis was living there then alone, and 
 Berwick told of having served with him in 
 Italy, and of how the younger d'Enville had 
 found favor with the king, and his sister had 
 been appointed to a position of honor at the 
 court. And her name had been spoken again 
 in my presence at Paris. What was said, and 
 who said it, I hardly knew, a mere rumor that 
 Louis would marry her to the Duke de Saule, 
 the colonel of his guard, and that the lady had 
 laughed in his face, and declined the honor, 
 with some word of witty response which had 
 made the king laugh in spite of his anger. 
 'Twas told then she had been sent back to 
 Chalons in disgrace, and d'Enville ordered to 
 his regiment. I could not recall what it was
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 she had said, but I had seen the Duke de Saule, 
 a pompous man of much flesh, with sour, sol 
 emn face, and the sting of the retort gave me 
 a hearty laugh. 
 
 And this girl, hiding here beside me in the 
 loft of this old tavern, a prisoner facing in 
 sult, claiming to be the humble daughter 
 of a Commissionaire, seeking her sick father, 
 was Camille d'Enville. It was difficult for 
 me to realize the truth, thus swiftly to ad 
 just my mind to these new conditions. A 
 vastly different problem confronted me now in 
 the presence of this gentlewoman, this court 
 beauty, than had she been the humble crea 
 ture she had claimed to be before the captain. 
 I cannot truly say my interest in her safety, her 
 escape, was greater, or that this discovery of 
 her identity increased the depth of my admi 
 ration. Rather it added responsibility, for 
 surely she was never in such a situation as this 
 without grave cause. Beyond doubt it was 
 the king's service which had led to that lonely 
 night ride, and her desperate attempt at eva 
 sion. Otherwise if there was nothing to 
 
 [52]
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 conceal she would have told Awlright her 
 name and rank, and demanded her release. 
 Reckless as the fellow was he would hesitate 
 to offer insult to such as she, or even hold her 
 prisoner without good cause. I must know 
 the whole truth if I was to serve her, to venture 
 my very life in her defense; she must tell me 
 the facts. 
 
 " You are Mademoiselle d'Enville? " I 
 asked, as though in doubt, " the daughter of 
 the Marquis at Chalons?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; you know of me then?" 
 and her eyes were uplifted to my face. " I 
 could scarcely hope for recognition." 
 
 " I was in Paris, you remember, at a time 
 when it was rumored you had displeased his 
 Majesty, and won banishment." 
 
 There were dimples in either cheek as she 
 smiled. 
 
 " Oh, and you would mean the affair of de 
 Saule, Monsieur? 'Twas not serious: the 
 king's anger lasted scarce a fortnight. True, it 
 cost me a journey to Marne at a bad season, 
 but he was scarce better off. Three messen- 
 [53]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 gers came before I returned the last bore a 
 letter in Louis' own hand." 
 
 " You are back in court then, and in full 
 favor?" 
 
 " I was, Monsieur," with a swift glance 
 about and below, and a shrug at the shoulders, 
 " but 't is hardly so now." 
 
 " Yet there is surely a reason, Mademoi 
 selle," I made haste to insist. " Why I find 
 you in this sad stress. You can trust me my 
 discretion, my loyalty." 
 
 " Would I have told you my name if uncon 
 vinced? I must tell you all, and implore 
 your service. I bear a message from Paris, 
 so important they dare not intrust it to a sol 
 dier. I overheard the plans, and volunteered 
 to bear it. 'Twas a wild project, no doubt, 
 yet they saw no better way, and consented. I 
 was given a guide a man who knew every 
 bridle-path and, but for an accident to one 
 of the horses, Monsieur, we would have been 
 safely through the lines of the allies last night. 
 We were compelled to stop at this tavern to 
 obtain a fresh mount, and there was a traitor 
 
 [54]
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 in the village. I know not how it occurred, 
 but suddenly the English came. There was 
 fighting, and my guide, La Barge, killed. He 
 died to permit my escape, but I was helpless, 
 my horse wounded, and, with small knowl 
 edge of the roads, I rode straight until my 
 horse fell, and was then made prisoner. At 
 first I would not speak, or say who I was, or 
 why I was abroad. It was the Lientenant Dorn 
 who brought me back here, and he hesitated to 
 search me because I treated him with such 
 contempt. But his captain was of another 
 kind " 
 
 " Did he dare to rob you? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur, not yet, but he will. He 
 sought other means first, but when they fail 
 he will be brute enough. I have parried with 
 him thus far, but he knows my tale is false. 
 Only the coming of the Austrians saved me 
 from rudeness. The man was losing his tem 
 per, and has little of the gentleman, if he be a 
 noble as he claims. His way is the way of 
 camps." 
 
 " And you will meet him how? " 
 [55]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " I knew not a moment ago. I was in des 
 peration, but I fear the man no longer. Here, 
 Monsieur, take this." 
 
 I think she extracted the paper from her 
 shoe, but it was accomplished so quickly in 
 the darkness that I could not be sure. My 
 hand held it, and I could feel the wax of the 
 seal. 
 
 "I? You give it into my care? " 
 
 " Why not? Are you not Arthur Shea, of 
 Berwick's Regiment. Do you not see what 
 will happen, Monsieur, when those Austrians 
 go! The Englishmen will order me down: 
 but they will never know you are here." 
 
 " Yes; there is a chance if I remain quiet," 
 I admitted, " that I get away free. But what 
 will become of you?" 
 
 " Of me? " indifferently. " Why nothing 
 much, I think, Monsieur. It matters not, for 
 they will find no paper; perchance I may be 
 taken to their Duke of Cumberland. That 
 will be no great harm. Voila I he will not burn 
 me alive! " 
 
 "No; they say he is stern, but just. Tis 
 [56]
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 not Cumberland you have to fear, but these 
 Guardsmen. I like neither of them overmuch 
 the one a bully, and the other a sneak. The 
 plan is not to my liking! " 
 
 She leaned forward, and I felt the touch of 
 her hand on my arm. 
 
 " I like you better for saying that," she 
 said softly, " but you must do as I say it is 
 for the king." 
 
 " And I am to leave you here alone to the 
 tender mercies of these devils? " 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; there is no other way, 
 and, besides, I do not count for so much. I 
 am but a woman of France, and there is so 
 little we can do. You must not think of me, 
 Monsieur; you are a soldier, and will do 
 your duty. Pledge me to deliver the dis 
 patch." 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 " The king, or failing him, Saxe." 
 
 There was a moment of hesitation, her eyes 
 on my face, her hand grasping my sleeve. I 
 was not afraid, although the case was des 
 perate enough. To venture back into the 
 
 [57]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 French lines meant my arrest, trial, and prob 
 able conviction. Yet I could not refuse her 
 d'Enville's sister. 
 
 " You will go, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, placing the paper in an 
 inside pocket of my blouse. " I was thinking 
 what you had better do." 
 
 Her face brightened. 
 
 " Why waste thought on me? I am not 
 afraid, now that the paper is safe and if 
 necessary I shall tell the Englishmen just 
 who I am." 
 
 " And you believe that will protect you? " 
 
 " Will it not, Monsieur? " 
 
 " I wish I knew," I answered soberly, " for 
 then I could determine my own duty. We are 
 a rough lot in the army, Mademoiselle, when 
 on campaign. You have met soldiers in Paris, 
 but they are not the same in the camps, where 
 women are playthings. I like not the man 
 ner of either of those fellows below. 'T is 
 my idea they will make sport of your claim. 
 You are armed? " 
 
 " A small pistol." 
 
 [58]
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 " Then have the explanation below while 
 I can overhear. Not even for the king will 
 I leave you alone in such hands." 
 / " But, Monsieur, it is not I ; it is the cause 
 of France," she pleaded. " I have your 
 pledge as a soldier." 
 
 " A pledge I shall keep to the uttermost, 
 Mademoiselle d'Enville. It will cost more 
 than you dream, but will be kept; yet if I am 
 a soldier I lay claim also to being a gentleman 
 I cannot leave you unprotected in the claws 
 of these wolves." 
 
 Her eyes were on mine thoughtfully, seek 
 ing to gauge my resolution. 
 
 " You insist I tell them my name and rank? 
 that I demand release? " 
 
 " Yes, and an escort to Douai." 
 
 " You think it will be refused? " 
 
 " I do not know, Mademoiselle, but I sus 
 picion the character of the English captain." 
 
 " And if he be obdurate? " 
 
 " I must be free to act in any way that will 
 best serve you; I was a man before I was a 
 soldier." 
 
 [59]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 I thought she was not going to answer she 
 was silent so long. I could hear the faint 
 sound of her breathing between the discord of 
 the noises from below. They were drinking 
 hard, and ever pounding the table with their 
 glasses to summon Saunders to bring more, and 
 talking with loosened tongues. She sat on the 
 straw facing me, apparently unmindful of the 
 din, her whole attention concentrated on my 
 meaning. Suddenly she outstretched both 
 hands. 
 
 "I I thank you, Monsieur," she said 
 brokenly. " I am not ungrateful : do not think 
 that. But you will learn I can protect myself 
 the Englishman will not dare touch me." 
 She paused, as though hesitating to ask the 
 question. " But I cannot help wondering how 
 does it happen you are here, Monsieur? 
 Surely it will be miles to the French lines, 
 and the roads patrolled. Were you upon a 
 scout?" 
 
 I wet my lips, mustering courage for a 
 falsehood. She would surely learn the truth 
 sometime, but not now. Let it be told her 
 [60]
 
 A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 by other lips, after I had paid the penalty. 
 If I confessed the duel with her brother she 
 would refuse me her trust, would turn from 
 me in despair, and leave me helpless to assist. 
 Better evasion than that, hard as I found it. 
 I felt the perspiration bead my forehead, and 
 my eyes wandered from her dimly revealed 
 face to the opening in the floor. I could 
 scarcely muster the words of explanation to 
 my lips. 
 
 "Yes, Mademoiselle, I am on scout ah! 
 be quiet now! the Austrians are going." 
 
 [61]
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 THE bustle below, the scraping of chairs 
 as the men arose from the table, were 
 a relief to me. Action was to follow, and I 
 was ever better at that than words my mind 
 clearing instantly, and every instinct awaken 
 ing to new life. I felt the clasp of her hands 
 tighten, and had no wish to loosen them. Let 
 her trust me while she could; there would 
 come a time when she might justly hate my 
 memory. But now I felt the very touch of 
 her increase my resolution. Without causing 
 a sound in the loose straw I moved myself 
 forward just far enough to gain glimpse of 
 the scene beneath. They were already on 
 their feet, departing as I thought, exhibiting 
 many a sign of the liquor drank. Nor were 
 Awlright and Dorn in much better condition 
 than their guests. I could not see the lieu 
 tenant, but clearly heard his disagreeable 
 voice uttering incoherent speeches of farewell. 
 
 [62]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The captain stood just below us, gripping 
 the table for support with one hand, his other 
 arm flung about the neck of a red-faced Aus 
 trian. The one was talking English, the other 
 German. At last the white uniform tore itself 
 loose, and Awlright sank back into his chair, 
 and kept repeating, " Shee you tomorrow; 
 shee you tomorrow," over and over, until the 
 last Austrian had staggered out through the 
 open door. Then the two guardsmen sat star 
 ing silently at each other across the sloppy 
 table. 
 
 Without were loud voices drunkenly giving 
 orders, a sound of movement, and, soon after, 
 the noise of departing horses. Someone 
 shouted a derisive word, and, as though sud 
 denly aroused, the English commander 
 straightened up, and his semblance to drunken 
 stupor departed instantly. He cast a glance 
 upward toward where we crouched, then 
 about the rough apartment. The sight of his 
 face told me the man had drank just enough 
 to be in evil mood. Dorn's head had fallen 
 forward and was pillowed on his arm. Awl- 
 [63]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 right looked at him sneeringly, shook him 
 once, but received no response. Saunders 
 was stirring up the fire, and the slight noise 
 attracted the captain's attention. 
 
 " Saunders." 
 
 "Yes, sir." The soldier stood stiffly at 
 attention. 
 
 " Help Lieutenant Dorn into the other 
 room, and fix him a place to sleep on the 
 floor. Then you may go." 
 
 " Yes, sir; for the night, sir? " 
 
 " Of course! What are you standing there 
 like a fool for? Come! hurry up, and get 
 out." 
 
 The man, a short, slender fellow, managed 
 to make the befuddled lieutenant help him 
 self, although he fell heavily twice before 
 they disappeared through the rear door. Awl- 
 right laughed, stroking his moustache, but 
 making no offer to assist. Nor did he move 
 when the trooper came back. 
 
 " Is that all, sir? " 
 
 "Yes, curse you!" savagely. "Shut the 
 door after you, and tell Weber we march at 
 
 [64]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 sunrise. Do n't stand there staring at me. Do 
 you think I 'm drunk? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Never saw me drunk, did you, Saunders? 
 No, and you never will, my man. I 'm not 
 that kind of a fool." 
 
 The soldier closed the door and all was 
 silent except the crackle of burning wood in 
 the fire-place. Awlright remained motionless, 
 his head bent forward so as to conceal his face. 
 Two candles, half consumed, fluttered and 
 smoked on the table, dimly illuminating the 
 disordered apartment. The captain's belt and 
 sword lay on the floor, and he touched them 
 with some movement of the foot causing the 
 metal to rattle. The slight noise aroused the 
 man to reach down and pick them up. As 
 though scarcely realizing what he did he 
 buckled the belt about his waist, reached over 
 for the nearly empty bottle, and drank again, 
 smacking his lips with satisfaction. Then he 
 looked up toward where we crouched beyond 
 his view. 
 
 " Come on down you you what 's the 
 [65]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 name? Oh yes Mademoiselle Valois," he 
 said, endeavoring to make his voice confiden 
 tial. " Come on down, an' an' we '11 talk 
 the matter over. Come on blasted Austri- 
 ans all gone." 
 
 I felt her hand on mine, gripping tightly, 
 as though the clasp was a question. The 
 drunken condition of the man, his evident 
 purpose in thus disposing of witnesses, gave 
 me an instant of doubt. Yet there was no 
 other way but for her to return below, and 
 face him fairly. The man knew she was there, 
 and if she refused to obey, he had only to call 
 his men to drag her out by force. This would 
 likely lead to my own discovery, and ruin 
 everything. Besides, we could deal far more 
 easily alone with this drunken brute than con 
 fronted by his whole command. 
 
 " Say! you girl up there," he cried again, 
 a touch of anger in his voice at the delay 
 in her appearing. 
 
 " Put down the ladder Lord I you do n't 
 need to be afraid of me! " 
 
 " Yes," I whispered. " You will have to 
 [66]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 take the chance : there is no other way. Here, 
 I '11 help you." 
 
 The ladder was light, and easily managed 
 between us. As its end neared the floor, the 
 impatient Englishman grasped the rungs, and 
 stood there staring up at the black hole 
 through which it protruded. The smile on 
 his lips was unpleasant, as he exclaimed, , 
 
 " Well, what are you waiting for now? " 
 
 " For you to step aside, Monsieur Captain," 
 she answered in a voice without tremor. " I 
 prefer to descend unaided." 
 
 He gave utterance to a muffled oath, yet 
 stepped back against the table. Her hand 
 pressed mine significantly. 
 
 " Good-by Monsieur," she whispered softly. 
 " Do not fear for me; guard the dispatch." 
 Then carefully grasping her skirts with one 
 hand, she descended the creaking ladder 
 until she stood securely on the floor, and 
 turned her face toward him. I bent lower so 
 that I might see clearly, confident the eyes of 
 the man would not be turned upward. If 
 the lady experienced any feeling of fear there 
 
 [67]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 was no manifestation of it in either face or 
 manner. She stood erect, gazing straight at 
 him, one hand still grasping the ladder, the 
 light of the candle full upon her. Her atti 
 tude betokened neither doubt nor indigna 
 tion; it was rather expressive of indifferent 
 disdain. Awlright, his mouth half open, 
 hesitated to utter the words of banter upon 
 his lips, his mood changing from drunken 
 insolence to anger. As she stood there silent, 
 looking directly at him, he lost all control. 
 
 " Do n't try your fine lady on me, you 
 wench," he growled threateningly, " or I '11 
 teach you a lesson. You 're not the first woman 
 I Ve had to tame ; nor are you likely to be the 
 last. Come over here." 
 
 " I prefer to remain where I am," she re 
 plied coldly, her fingers tightening their hold 
 on the wood, but with no other sign of nervous 
 ness. " And I advise you to do likewise." 
 
 "Oh, hoi And so you threaten me, do 
 you!" he laughed. "And of course, I am 
 afraid. Whyl you little fool, I could crush 
 you with one hand see!" and he extended 
 
 [68]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a huge fist, opening and closing the fingers 
 suggestively. " Suppose I took your neck like 
 that; Bah! and who would know, or care?" 
 
 She made no movement; there was no 
 change of expression, her eyes frankly meeting 
 his. 
 
 " Captain Awlright," she said steadily, her 
 voice clear. " It is useless for you to try 
 frightening me. I am a woman, but not that 
 kind. You have the strength, of course, but 
 it will never serve you in my case." 
 
 " And why not? " insolently. 
 
 " Because," the very quietness of her tone 
 bringing conviction. " If you attempt to lay 
 hand on me I shall kill you do you under 
 stand?" 
 
 " You little vixen I Do you think you can 
 kill me with your eyes? I 'm too old a bird 
 to be caught so easily." He paused. " And 
 besides, you were searched ! " 
 
 " I was not." 
 
 "Then Dorn lied to me! By heaven, I 
 believe you were; that you are working some 
 game. I '11 call your hand my fine lady! " 
 
 [69]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 11 All you need do is to try me and see. Take 
 another step, Monsieur, and I will show you. 
 What is that? Your men? I would face them 
 now more willingly than you alone; and as 
 for that sneaking fox of a lieutenant, he can 
 bark, but not bite. Now listen, Monsieur I 
 have spoken falsely to you once, but not now. 
 If you touch me you die I swear it. Hear 
 what I say. You think me a defenseless 
 woman, the obscure daughter of a Commis 
 sionaire with whom you can do as you please. 
 I told you that when you were sober and in 
 command of your men." 
 
 " I 'm sober enough now." 
 
 "Ay! you can stand and walk, but your 
 brain is maddened with drink. I saw and 
 heard, and I knew what you would attempt. 
 And I made up my own mind how to meet 
 you. I told you a false tale; I am not Henri- 
 ette Valois, but a lady of France, a friend of 
 Louis. If you touch me with insult there 
 are those who will sheathe their swords in 
 your body though it cost them their lives. 
 That is the truth." 
 
 [70]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Had the man been sober he would have 
 believed, her words were spoken so directly, 
 with such conviction, as to have left no doubt. 
 Even as it was the fellow hesitated, unable 
 for a moment to decide what to say. Then 
 the thought came into his muddled brain that 
 this was all a trick, a bit of womanly wit. 
 The idea tickled him, and he laughed half 
 angrily. 
 
 " A fine story, but not to be believed," he 
 insisted. " Nor am I afraid of all the French 
 swords that would be drawn for you, my 
 beauty. Pshaw! I've fronted them these 
 twenty years. So let 's have done with such 
 talk. And you 're not Henrietta Valois? 
 Well, I never thought you was. Maybe you '11 
 name yourself." 
 
 " I am Camille d'Enville." 
 
 " Oh ho ! you aim high ! " Prithee ! but 't is 
 some jump from where you started. Why 
 not be the queen herself? 't would be just as 
 easy. So you are the beauty of Louis' court, 
 hey? Well, I confess your looks might bear 
 you out Faith, 't will be a joke to tell of this.
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 And how happens it you are here, Made 
 moiselle Camille d'Enville? The Court, I 
 take it, is still at Paris." 
 
 " Louis is at Charleroi," she answered 
 calmly, ignoring his rough jesting, " or was 
 two days since. There are ladies of the court 
 in camp with him, and it is not strange that 
 I should join them." 
 
 " Alone, through the lines of the enemy? " 
 " Not alone ; I traveled with escort, Mon 
 sieur. An accident separated us. Nor should 
 I have been alone in the French camp, for my 
 brother is on Saxe's staff." 
 
 "The young Chevalier d'Enville?" 
 She bowed gravely. 
 
 " The name then is not unknown to you? " 
 " Ay! I Ve been told of him before; we met 
 once at Ostend a wild young blade he was 
 then, but he has shown some stern stuff since. 
 I might not recall the lad had I not heard his 
 name spoken again this same night." 
 
 "His name? how? in what connection?" 
 
 " Why, let me see. ? T was mayhap an hour 
 
 before we ran against you and your friend, 
 
 [72]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 that we exchanged shots with a French scout 
 ing party. 'T was no affair of consequence, a 
 bit of blind firing in the dark, neither party 
 knowing the strength of the other. However, 
 the Frenchmen wheeled their horses and rode 
 off, leaving one man behind for dead. Our 
 sergeant found him still living, a soldier of 
 the Regiment of Normandy, and before he 
 died, he said the squad was out in search after 
 a fugitive who had killed an officer of the 
 Regiment du Roi." 
 
 She stood with parted lips, and bloodless 
 cheeks, listening, all pretense at indifference 
 gone, 
 
 "The Regiment du Roi, Monsieur! And 
 he named the officer? " 
 
 " Captain d'Enville." 
 
 There was silence, so deep and still I could 
 hear the breathing of the two, and the crack 
 ling of the flames. Her head sank upon her 
 hands where they grasped the support of the 
 ladder. For the moment the girl had for 
 gotten where she was, the very presence of 
 the man. I was trembling from head to foot, 
 
 [73]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 every nerve throbbing, but my eye remained 
 riveted on the face of Awlright. His expres 
 sion told me he believed she but acted a part, 
 was attempting to play out the character she 
 had assumed. 
 
 "He was killed, Monsieur?" she ques 
 tioned at last. " You are sure the soldier said 
 he was killed? " 
 
 " So the sergeant reported. I did not see 
 the fellow. It was a messroom fight over the 
 cards, and d'Enville fell, run through by his 
 opponent's sword. 'T is a story common 
 enough, so I gave it small thought." 
 
 " And the man who killed him? You heard 
 his name also? " 
 
 Awlright paused in an attempt to remember. 
 
 " 'T is not in my memory now that the ser 
 geant spoke his name only that he was an 
 officer of the Irish Brigade: oh, yes, the Regi 
 ment of Berwick." 
 
 She gave utterance to a quick sob, but I 
 
 had no thought at the moment except for the 
 
 Englishman. There was no sympathy in his 
 
 face, no faith in the truth of her emotion. 
 
 [74]
 
 THE MERCY OF THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Into his drunken brain only one conception 
 found entrance she was trying to make a 
 fool out of him. Well, he was too wise a bird 
 to be caught, and now was his time, when 
 she was off her guard. I saw him move for 
 ward, cautiously, silently. Then he sprang, 
 and caught her in his arms, one hand over 
 her mouth, to shut off alarm, the other grip 
 ping her slender figure as in a vise. There 
 was a struggle, short, useless, a gurgling 
 sound as though she strangled, and then he 
 flung her helplessly back against the table. 
 The shock, the rough handling dislodged her 
 pistol, which fell to the floor. Awl right kicked 
 it aside contemptuously, grasping her wrists, 
 and staring down into her upturned face. 
 
 " How now, my beauty! " he laughed half 
 savagely. " Think you there are any French 
 swords here now with which to frighten me? 
 Come, I beseech a kiss, fair lady. No! then 
 I take it, whether you will, or not." 
 
 [75
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 I FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 IT WAS no time for hesitancy or question 
 ing. Whatever the dispatch might contain 
 which had been given me to guard, my para 
 mount duty now was the defense of this 
 woman, struggling just below, in the grip of 
 that drunken brute. There was no hope of 
 descending through that narrow opening 
 unobserved, and yet I realized instantly the 
 importance of swift, sure movement. There 
 must be in our encounter no firing, no loud 
 clash of steel if I hoped for escape. The en 
 campment of guards was not far away; there 
 might, indeed, be a sentinel posted just with 
 out the door, and the lieutenant lay in the rear 
 room stupefied by drink to be sure, yet pos 
 sibly to be aroused by sounds of conflict. 
 Awlright was a larger man than I, a big- 
 boned fellow, hardened by long campaigning, 
 yet I must meet him with bare hands. 
 
 [76]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The thought no sooner swept through my 
 mind, than I put it into execution. I was down 
 the ladder, scarcely touching it, my feet firm 
 on the floor, my hands gripping the man. He 
 had barely time in which to whirl about and 
 face me, flinging the girl heavily to the floor 
 in the violence of movement. I knew 
 she struck a chair as she fell, and lay motion 
 less, yet even this was scarce more than an 
 impression, for my whole attention was held 
 by my adversary. I had the collar of his 
 jacket twisted tight, my other hand gripping 
 his wrist. For a single instant he gave back, 
 held fast against the edge of the heavy table, 
 struggling desperately, yet hardly realizing 
 the nature of the attack. I had dropped down 
 upon him as from the sky, and for the moment, 
 he scarcely knew whether I was man, or beast. 
 There was terror in his upturned face, as he 
 stared at me, seeking to tear loose my hand 
 grip at his throat. Then he grasped the truth, 
 and rallied to a fight for life. 
 
 With a mad strength I had never before 
 supposed any man possessed, he lifted himself, 
 
 [77]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 inch by inch, forcing me to yield way. His 
 fingers seemed to fairly crush the bones of 
 my arm as he jerked his throat free, and, with 
 savage curse, struck at me. The blow missed 
 me by the breadth of a hair, its violence caus 
 ing him to stumble across the bench. As he 
 fell I struck, and he went over onto the floor. 
 Again I had him, but his strength was too 
 much to withstand, and I was lifted bodily 
 and forced back against the table. His face 
 was battered by my blow, blood dripping into 
 his eyes, but he realized now that he was con 
 tending with a man, and fear had given way 
 to a fierce anger. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! so the lass knew what she was 
 talking about, hey! " he growled. " The bag 
 gage had a card up her sleeve. Now, you 
 French montebank, I '11 teach you a lesson." 
 
 He had me before I could rise, but my arm 
 protected my throat, and the weight of us 
 both caused the table to give way, and we 
 went down together, clawing and struggling 
 like two wild beasts. I know not what flung 
 me on top; I think the grip I had on his hair, 
 [78]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 but I got a knee into his stomach, desperate 
 enough then to be careless how I fought, and 
 reached out for a pewter mug on the floor 
 beside us. I got it none too soon, for he flung 
 me sidewise, fairly wrenching my hand loose, 
 but in that second I struck once. Had I been 
 free, and able to lift my arm a foot higher, 
 that would have been a death blow. As it was 
 he fell back, still clutching me, and lay mo 
 tionless. An instant I held the mug poised, 
 scarcely realizing what had occurred, and then 
 pulled myself free, and sat upright. The 
 fellow breathed, but that was all; my blow 
 had taken him fairly on the side of the head, 
 and it was scarce likely he ever knew what 
 hit him. I caught hold of the table and got 
 to my feet, trembling still from the exertion 
 of the struggle. 
 
 I expected the noise would have been heard, 
 and my hand gripped my sword hilt as I 
 stood over the big body, and waited, staring 
 at the door. There was no sound of alarm, 
 nothing to indicate an attempt at rescue. The 
 candle on the table had been thrown to the 
 
 [79]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 floor and extinguished, but the other, over 
 the fire-place, continued to burn. There was 
 light enough for me to see from wall to wall, 
 to discern the dark stain of blood on the floor. 
 My first thought was for Dorn. Surely the 
 overturned bench, the splintered chair must 
 have created sufficient racket to have aroused 
 him. But there was no sound from the inner 
 room, and my eyes wandered from the closed 
 door, and encountered those of the woman, 
 where she rested on one knee. 
 
 I saw her clearly in that moment as I had 
 not been permitted to before. She faced the 
 sputtering candle, and her hair, disarranged 
 by the struggle with Awl right, was thrust 
 back, and hung unconfined to the floor. I 
 could not describe if I would the charm that 
 held me. 'T is something words will not ex 
 press to another. It was not prettiness but 
 beauty which confronted me, yet the look upon 
 her face told me at once her distrust. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, conscious of a 
 strange sound to my voice. " I think the way 
 i8 clear for us to go." 
 
 [80]
 
 I FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " For you, Monsieur," and she attained her 
 feet, ignoring my hand, " the way is clear, for 
 I am a woman without strength to stop you. 
 I can ask but one favor give me back the 
 paper." 
 
 "The paper! Why? Am I not now to 
 be trusted with its delivery? " 
 
 My tone of surprise must have been noticed, 
 for the expression of her eyes changed. 
 
 " Do you imply you ever meant to deliver 
 it? " she asked swiftly. " Ever intended to 
 ride into the French lines?" 
 
 " I gave you my word, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " To deceive me; to cause me to trust you. 
 And you also claimed to be upon scout, an 
 honorable soldier." 
 
 " And now you hold me unworthy? " 
 
 " How else can I hold you? You were 
 above listening; you heard this man's tale. 
 Are you not that Irish officer, Monsieur, who 
 killed my brother? Is that not why you were 
 hiding here, to escape those who would avenge 
 him?" 
 
 I bent my head, struggling for courage to 
 [81]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 face her, and explain. 'Twas no easy task, 
 for she could not be made to know the man as 
 I did his arrogance of manner, his words 
 of insult, his bullying methods, his disdain 
 for all of lesser rank. Nor could I tell her 
 how the quarrel arose, nor of those hard words 
 he spoke which drew my blow. She was the 
 man's sister, and might not understand. Nay! 
 she would believe I lied ; that I made up the 
 tale to shield myself. Yet I could not leave 
 her here alone; nor see her ride forth into the 
 dark night unattended. 
 
 Not a league of those dull plains about us 
 was safe by either night or day the roads 
 patrolled by soldiers to whom mercy was 
 unknown; the fields and woods sheltering 
 fugitive peasants capable in their misery of 
 any crime. No more had I any purpose of 
 denying to her that I was the man who had 
 fought Charles d'Enville. I could not force 
 myself to face her eyes of reproach, and lie. 
 Deep in my heart arose a conviction that 
 this was no woman who would ever forgive 
 deceit. She would respect me far more if I 
 
 [82]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 dealt with her fairly, if I squarely confessed 
 the whole truth. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur?" 
 
 "Yes, I am the man," I answered, striv 
 ing to speak with restraint. " Yet you cannot 
 justly blame me for not admitting this until 
 it became necessary. I wished you to trust 
 me, and I would rather the story was told you 
 by others." 
 
 "You attempt no defense? You make no 
 excuse? " 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle. My comrades will 
 tell you how the affair occurred. All I shall 
 say is that we fought fairly; it was point to 
 point, his life or mine, and he the better 
 swordsman. I do not even know that I killed 
 him; only that my weapon slipped up his 
 sword blade, and I thrust home. He fell, and 
 those of my corps urged me to fly; forcing me 
 from the room." 
 
 " But," she insisted, her eyes ever on my 
 face, " if you were justified why was it neces 
 sary for you to seek refuge in flight? Dueling 
 is not uncommon in the camp." 
 
 [83]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " Your brother was my superior officer, a 
 favorite of Marshall Saxe, and a noble of 
 France. My only hope for justice lay in an 
 appeal to the king." 
 
 She was silent for a long moment, her head 
 drooping. When she lifted her face to look 
 at me again there was a mist of tears in the 
 dark eyes. I stood motionless, scarcely daring 
 to hope, yet fully decided as to my own course 
 of action. 
 
 " And you insist that you would have car 
 ried the dispatches to Charleroi? " 
 
 "Yes, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " The act would have endangered your life? 
 led to your arrest? " 
 
 "Yes, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Then why would you dare to run such a 
 risk for France? " 
 
 " Partially, Mademoiselle; I am a soldier, 
 and loyal to my cause, yet I cannot say that 
 I would have made the sacrifice for France 
 alone. There was another motive." 
 
 " What? " 
 
 " A woman's honor, and a woman's trust." 
 [84]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 A bit of red crept into her cheek, her 
 hands clasping tightly. 
 
 " You do not say that merely to be gallant. 
 You are not a courtier, Monsieur Shea. I do 
 not in the least know why it should be so, but 
 but still I almost believe you. I I 
 read the truth in your eyes." She hesitated 
 as though doubting the propriety of saying 
 more, but her better judgment conquered. 
 " Perhaps, I should not say this, but we have 
 met strangely, and are here together in the 
 midst of peril. I do not know what these dis 
 patches contain, yet we may have entrusted 
 to us the fate of France. We must trust each 
 other not even the killing of my brother 
 can justify my refusal to accept your aid now. 
 You have fought for me " she shuddered as 
 she looked at Awlright " and saved me, 
 Monsieur, from that beast. I must be grate 
 ful; besides " 
 
 " What Mademoiselle? " Is it not best for 
 me to know? " 
 
 "If my words are not misunderstood 
 yes. Yet they are not easy to speak. I loved 
 
 [85]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 my brother, Monsieur. He was ever kind to 
 me, yet I know him to have been hard and 
 overbearing to others. Perchance this affair 
 was his fault, and not yours. You may have 
 done no more than defend yourself. I will 
 not condemn until I know." 
 
 I touched her hand, and, while there was 
 no response, she made no attempt to repulse 
 me. 
 
 " You have given me new heart," I said 
 earnestly. " Now I know I can rely on you 
 to the end, but I will not expect more, nor 
 attempt to deceive. I have no defense Ma 
 demoiselle; I was hot of head, and ready 
 enough to quarrel. Yet now, in this affair, I 
 have your confidence? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered gravely. " I am going 
 to trust you. See! " stepping back, and releas 
 ing her hand, " the Englishman moves! he is 
 not dead!" 
 
 " It was a light blow I struck, but will give 
 us time. Yet we have talked overlong already. 
 Pick up your pistol, Mademoiselle; now we 
 will have a look at the lieutenant." 
 
 [86]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 She followed me closely, as I crossed the 
 room, and opened the door leading into the 
 shed. It revealed a small apartment, used 
 merely for purposes of cooking, unoccupied 
 except for Dorn, who lay huddled against a 
 side wall in drunken stupor. I bent over him, 
 half believing he feigned sleep, yet the heavy 
 regularity of his breathing convinced me 
 otherwise. I turned away from the fellow 
 in disgust, and cast a quick glance about. 
 There was one window, closed by a wooden 
 shutter, and a door. Surely this rear exit was 
 more likely to be unguarded than the front 
 entrance, for all sounds had evidenced that 
 the troop of guards had made camp beside 
 the road. I closed the interior door, plung 
 ing the rear room into darkness, and grasped 
 my companion by the arm. 
 
 " Do you know how we are to escape? " she 
 asked, in a whisper. " Have you a plan? " 
 
 " Hardly that; we must learn first how the 
 land lies. Come, as I guide you." 
 
 I lifted the latch noiselessly, and peered 
 cautiously out. The red gleam of a camp fire, 
 
 [87]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 not far off, but concealed by the side of the 
 house, cast a revealing light over objects 
 immediately at hand. Not far away could be 
 distinguished the building in which I had 
 concealed my horse ; the door was to the right, 
 and I knew a sentry would be there; indeed, 
 I could imagine I made out the soldier's 
 shadow as he approached the corner, turned 
 sharply and disappeared again back into the 
 gloom. 
 
 Convinced that I had located the camp, our 
 path of escape must lie in the opposite direc 
 tion, and yet it would be useless for us to flee 
 on foot. Even although we possessed several 
 hours yet of darkness, mounted men would 
 easily track us down with the first brightening 
 of dawn. And Awlright would not remain 
 long unconscious ; he would awaken actuated 
 by a mad desire for revenge. Besides we had 
 to fear the possibility of encountering bands 
 of peasants, who roamed and terrorized the 
 country between the military lines. They 
 were everywhere, looting deserted homes, 
 torturing and slaying the helpless, desperate 
 
 [88]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 from lack of food, and uncontrolled by any 
 form of discipline. They were like venomous 
 snakes ready to strike any victim, and the flat 
 land offered no concealment, except within 
 the shadow of small groves, likely to hide the 
 very danger we had most reason to avoid. On 
 foot we should be helplessly exposed to dis 
 covery and attack our fate might never be 
 known. 
 
 Memory told me there were other houses 
 to the left mere huts to be sure, thatched 
 with straw. These might be occupied by 
 soldiers, yet that was hardly probable, as the 
 dirt within made the camp in the open more 
 preferable. Both armies had long since 
 learned that disease lurked in the filth of peas 
 ant cabins, and officers seldom permitted their 
 men to make use of such dwellings. But, even 
 if there were some sleeping behind those walls, 
 the outside shadows would help conceal our 
 movements. The girl could be left there 
 safely, while I sought the horse herd, and dis 
 covered some means for procuring a suitable 
 mount. 
 
 [89]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 I watched again closely for the shadow of 
 the sentry, and the instant I felt convinced 
 the fellow had turned his back, I urged her 
 forward with a word of explanation. As silent 
 as though we were specters we ventured out 
 and along in the shade of the tavern wall, 
 crossed a narrow open space, where there had 
 once been a garden, and crouched breathless 
 beside the black shadow of a hut. Neither 
 spoke, every instinct alert to know whether 
 our swift passage had been observed. I still 
 retained my clasp upon her hand, and, in the 
 deep silence, I could hear her subdued breath 
 ing, and feel the tightening grip of her fingers. 
 
 " You are not frightened, Mademoiselle? " 
 I whispered, because I felt that I must speak. 
 
 "No; I I think not. I hardly know, 
 Monsieur. It is all strange to me, such adven 
 tures. I am not a soldier like you, accustomed 
 to danger. They will follow us? " 
 
 " The moment an alarm is raised. Awl- 
 right is not one to forgive that blow I dealt 
 him. Yet I fear these English guards less 
 than some other perils of the way." 
 
 [90]
 
 / FIGHT THE CAPTAIN 
 
 I could scarcely perceive her outline, closely 
 together as we crouched, and yet knew her 
 face was turned toward me. 
 
 "What, Monsieur?" 
 
 " The hordes of peasants driven out of their 
 villages to starve, and rob. The country be 
 tween the lines swarms with vermin, and there 
 is no crime at which many among them would 
 hesitate. We must procure horses, or we shall 
 be in their hands before we have traveled a 
 league. I have seen some savage sights since 
 I rode out of Charleroi." 
 
 The thoughtless mention of the place 
 brought back her memory, and, she drew away 
 her hand, and held slightly aloof from me. 
 I felt the swift action, and as instantly com 
 prehended the cause.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IN DESPERATE STRAIT 
 
 IT WAS a dark night, the sky overcast, not 
 a star visible. The camp fire gave feeble 
 light, barely enough to enable me to distin 
 guish dimly the outlines of near-by objects, 
 yet yielding to these a grotesque and unusual 
 appearance. And there were noises; some I 
 could hear clearly and understand, but others 
 were weird and far-off, mere echoes borne to 
 us by the night wind. There were voices 
 grumbling hoarsely beyond the tavern, the 
 words indistinguishable, doubtless the idle 
 conversation of the sleepy picket guard. A 
 sentry out in the road called, and there fol 
 lowed a crunch of feet in the direction of the 
 voice. An owl hooted, and, as if in answer, 
 a dog wailed forth his misery far out beyond 
 the village. 
 
 Somewhere away to the right, there was a 
 steady tapping, as though someone hammered 
 
 [92]
 
 72V DESPERATE STRAIT 
 
 on wood, and once I thought I heard a shriek 
 as of one in mortal agony. But the sound I 
 listened for was the restless movement of 
 horses, and at last, I located the herd, picketed 
 across the road, to the front of the tavern. 
 Now that I knew where to look, I could even 
 distinguish the shadowy forms of those near 
 est me. There was some disturbance among 
 them, and .the men called by the vidette were 
 endeavoring to quiet the startled animals, 
 soothing them with speech, and refastening 
 their halters. I made the fellows out dimly 
 as they returned to the road, and paused an 
 instant to exchange words with the man on 
 guard, before tramping back to the comfort 
 of the fire. The latter resumed his beat, 
 thrashing one arm, as though the night air 
 had chilled his blood. When he disappeared 
 behind the end of the tavern my eyes concen 
 trated themselves on the shadowy blotches 
 representing horses. The troop animals were 
 evidently bunched closely together, and to en 
 deavor to detach even one from among them 
 would alarm all the others. But there was a 
 
 [93]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 single animal the captain's, no doubt 
 tethered a few rods away, munching grass at 
 the end of a long rope. By creeping forward 
 cautiously, I might succeed in leading this 
 creature unobserved beyond sight of the sen 
 try. I wanted two, but even one was far 
 better than being afoot. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you will wait here until I 
 return," I said, turning my head to glance at 
 her. 
 
 " Alone, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Yes; there is nothing to fear if you remain 
 quiet. Only do not change position, for I 
 shall need to find you quickly. I am going 
 to attempt cutting out a horse for our use 
 the one alone there to the left." 
 
 She gazed in the direction I pointed, shad 
 ing her eyes with one hand. 
 
 " There is no other way? Will you not be 
 seen? Is that your horse, Monsieur?" 
 
 " There is a chance of success. No, my 
 horse is in the hut yonder, and under guard. 
 I imagine the animal yonder to be Captain 
 Awlright's mount You wish me well? " 
 
 [94]
 
 72V DESPERATE STRAIT 
 
 11 Surely, Monsieur." 
 
 I do not know why, but there was an indif 
 ference to the tone in which she answered me 
 that hurt. I could not see her face, but I felt 
 that her mind yet dwelt upon the fate of her 
 brother. She accepted my aid because there 
 was no other to be had; she was trying to be 
 gracious and obedient but the former feeling 
 of confidence, so much in evidence when we 
 were together in the loft of the inn, had en 
 tirely vanished. She could not forget, nor 
 would my heart blame her, although the 
 knowledge of her doubt brought me a twinge 
 of pain. However, I would do the best I 
 could in her service something she would 
 know and understand. 
 
 " I thank you, Mademoiselle," I replied 
 courteously. " You can watch me from 
 here." 
 
 Either my words, or their manner of utter 
 ance, must have exhibited my feeling, for she 
 touched my sleeve with an extended hand. 
 
 " Do not go feeling that I am ungrateful," 
 she insisted anxiously. " For, indeed, I am 
 
 [95]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 not. I realize how easy it would be for you 
 to escape alone, and that this risk is assumed 
 in service to me. If I spoke indifferently it 
 was not at all because I fail to care for your 
 safety." 
 
 " You may never know how your words 
 hearten me. I will do my best; wait here and 
 be ready." 
 
 I crept out into the open space, sinking my 
 body into a slight depression which I dis 
 covered by chance, and advancing with ex 
 treme caution. I must have been out of view 
 almost at once for, when I paused an instant, 
 and glanced back, I could barely perceive the 
 black smudge of the hut, with no evidence of 
 the girl's presence. The night was somewhat 
 lighter ahead, because of the glow of fire to 
 the left, but the depression in which I hid 
 circled in the opposite direction, and I fol 
 lowed it for better protection. This brought 
 me to the road at a safe distance from the 
 sentry, whom I could perceive now clearly, 
 silhouetted against the flame. I waited until 
 his back was turned, then slipped across the 
 
 [96]
 
 IN DESPERATE STR4IT 
 
 open road, and burrowed in the grass and 
 weeds on the other side. 
 
 By this time I was well to the right of the 
 solitary animal I was seeking to approach, 
 and began to fear that if I crept forward I 
 would only frighten the beast and create an 
 alarm. A bold approach would be far better, 
 and, with this end in view, I moved on hands 
 and knees until the body of the horse was 
 between me and the sentry. Then, safely 
 sheltered, I stood up, waited until the man 
 turned again on his beat and walked quietly 
 forward. The horse turned his head, and 
 smelt of me, but with no exhibition of fear, 
 and concealed safely behind his shadow I 
 made hasty examination of his condition and 
 equipment. He was a long-limbed rangy 
 animal, well able to carry Awl right's weight, 
 and had on a saddle cloth, and bridle, although 
 the bits were not in the mouth. A strong rope 
 about the neck led away into the darkness, 
 and was, apparently, a long bit of cord. I 
 sawed this through strand by strand, with my 
 knife blade; held tightly to the severed end, 
 
 [97]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 and peered across the animal's back, figuring 
 out the safer course of action. 
 
 I could see the camp fire now, and the men 
 sleeping about it, with a little group huddled 
 against the tavern walls out of the wind. The 
 man on guard stopped in his tramp to ex 
 change a word, and then paced slowly the 
 distance to the opposite corner, past the closed 
 door. The candle inside the house yet burned, 
 for I could perceive a faint gleam of light 
 through some unguarded chink, but all re 
 mained quiet within. The fellow came to the 
 end of his beat; cast a careless glance out into 
 the darkness, shifted his gun, and wheeled 
 about. To all appearance he had no thought 
 of danger his trick at sentry a mere routine. 
 My mind grasped instantly the chance offered 
 by such carelessness. If there was no noise 
 the probability was that he would never even 
 miss the presence of this lone horse. Even if 
 he did, he would most likely imagine the ani 
 mal had wandered to the end of the picket 
 rope, or laid down in the long grass. There 
 was small chance he would investigate. Im- 
 
 [98]
 
 IN DESPERATE STR4IT 
 
 pressed by the truth of this, I stepped back 
 ward, the horse following to my grip on the 
 rope. There was no noise, except a faint 
 rustling of the grass underfoot, and I watched 
 closely the movements of the guard. As he 
 wheeled to retrace his beat we waited motion 
 less, but the moment his back was turned we 
 were off once more. This second attempt 
 brought us well beyond his vision and down a 
 slight declivity where the darkness was in 
 tense. I felt for passage foot by foot over 
 uneven ground; then ventured to cross the 
 road, and seek a way back into the village. 
 
 It was more by sense of touch than sight 
 that I advanced, for among the huts the gloom 
 of the night was like a black wall. Yet I 
 found a projecting log, slipped the bit into 
 the horse's mouth, and fastened the rein se 
 curely. To return to the point from which I 
 started was not an easy journey, but the dis 
 tant glare of the camp fire served as a guide, 
 and afforded a sense of direction. Once near 
 the hut where we had hidden it could not be 
 mistaken, because of its close proximity to the 
 
 [99]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 tavern. Eager to make all possible haste, and 
 confident the village was totally deserted, I 
 ran forward, almost recklessly, to the spot 
 where I had left her. It was unoccupied 
 Mademoiselle had disappeared. For a mo 
 ment I could not realize the truth, searching 
 with my hands in the darker shadows, and 
 circling the entire hut, thinking she might 
 have merely changed her position for conceal 
 ment. But the stern fact of her absence was 
 only too apparent. She had gone, left me 
 without a word of explanation, broken her 
 pledge and disappeared. But why had she 
 done this? And where could she have fled? 
 
 I stood there stunned, bewildered, staring 
 helplessly about, fearing every instant to hear 
 sounds of alarm from the tavern ; not knowing 
 where to turn or search. 
 
 There was little doubt in my mind as to 
 the reason for this act; she distrusted, feared 
 me. Her fair words of confidence had been 
 falsely spoken, and she had grasped eagerly 
 the earliest opportunity to escape from my 
 power. I was her brother's murderer! That 
 [ioo]
 
 IN DESPERATE STRAIT 
 
 one thought must have obscured all else in her 
 mind, and left her desperate enough to dare 
 any other danger rather than continue to com 
 panion with me. This conception, this knowl 
 edge, thus sharply brought home, cut me like 
 a whip. The very pain with which I ac 
 knowledged the truth told me instantly the 
 depth of my own feeling toward her. The 
 girl had appealed to me strangely, her per 
 sonality had touched me with an odd power. 
 Perchance it was the way we met, her depend 
 ence, her seeming trust; yet the memory of her 
 face, the sound of her voice haunted me as 
 none other had ever done. And she preferred 
 the night alone, the dread danger of the un 
 known, to my companionship. She had hid 
 den herself in this foul village rather than 
 wait my return. My presence was more hate 
 ful to her than all else. 
 
 But was it? Could there not be some other 
 explanation? Surely it was not in her nature 
 to lie, to pretend a faith she did not feel. I 
 could not rid myself of the belief that she 
 was true of heart, loyal and outspoken. Not
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 once had she seemed to shrink from me ex 
 cept in that first moment. She had accepted 
 my statement graciously and frankly; had even 
 given me her hands in an impulse of gratitude. 
 It was not in her nature to assume to be other 
 than she was. I doubted if this lady could 
 have acted the part so as to deceive anyone. 
 Yet what explanation was possible? Could 
 she have been discovered, and either borne, 
 or enticed away? Not by violence surely, for 
 in the still night I would have heard sounds 
 of any struggle. The other thought was pre 
 posterous for who could be here to entice? 
 Why should she trust herself to any strange 
 prowler? 
 
 I dare not attempt a light, yet I thrust open 
 the door of the hut, and spoke her name. 
 There was no answer, but I could not de 
 sist feeling about within from wall to wall, 
 discovering not so much as a chair or table to 
 relieve its barrenness. Driven by desperation 
 I invaded two other of the miserable struc 
 tures, my only reward the release of a half- 
 starved dog, which snapped viciously at my 
 
 [102]
 
 IN DESPERATE STRAIT 
 
 legs, and then fled, with a howl of terror, into 
 the night. The noise the brute made startled 
 me into a realization of my own peril. This 
 blind search was useless; it could lead to 
 nothing, save through pure accident How 
 ever the lady had fled, whether alone, or in 
 company, there was no hope of my finding 
 her amid that darkness. Ay! and every mo 
 ment of delay, every sound I made, might 
 occasion alarm. Besides she had left with 
 me those dispatches for the king. Their safe 
 delivery into his hands at Charleroi would 
 bring me pardon, perhaps reward. Every 
 instinct bade me mount and ride away on the 
 duty of a soldier. But to do so would mean 
 her desertion to an unknown fate. 
 
 I stood there racked by doubt; my own self 
 ish concerns urging me to escape, my aroused 
 interest in the lady holding me irresolute. 
 Suddenly the alarm burst; a hoarse voice 
 called out some hasty order, and I heard the 
 sound of running men. I could see figures, 
 outlined dimly by the fire glow, hastening 
 toward the horse herd. Realizing now that 
 [103]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 I no longer had a choice, I turned, and ran 
 swiftly through the darkness toward where 
 I had left the stolen horse. For the instant 
 a desire to escape capture dominated my en 
 tire thought. I ran blindly, recklessly, down 
 the narrow passage between the huts, conscious 
 of the shouting of the guards, even recog 
 nizing the bellowing voice of Awlright amid 
 the din. Then I stopped suddenly, dismayed 
 and bewildered. I had come to the place 
 where I had secured the animal, but there 
 was no horse there. 
 
 [104]
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 VOICES shouting out orders into the 
 night, the sound of tramping feet in 
 every direction, were evidence the pursuit was 
 on in earnest. Dazed as I was by the discovery 
 that the horse had disappeared, I could not 
 linger there, nor make search after the miss 
 ing animal. I had been too long a soldier to 
 hesitate, to stand idle waiting capture, while a 
 possibility of escape remained. I realized 
 fully what it would mean for me to fall alive 
 into the hands of Awlright. The memory of 
 the man gave wings to my feet, and I leaped 
 recklessly forward into the darkness, gripping 
 my sword in one hand, and running with all 
 possible silence. My course took me between 
 the line of houses, toward the woods at the 
 rear of the village. 
 
 The direction was through no choice of 
 mine, but seemed the only route left un 
 guarded ; besides the row of low huts, deserted 
 [105]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 and unlighted, afforded shadow, and impeded 
 pursuit. If some of the guard were mounted 
 they would never venture into these crooked, 
 narrow lanes, and I could run as swiftly as 
 any of the soldiers afoot, spurred on as I was 
 by a desire to preserve life. I fell twice, trip 
 ping over some unseen obstacles, and ran full 
 tilt into a post, receiving a serious bruise, but 
 was instantly up again, speeding desperately 
 forward. I came forth into an open field 
 well in advance of my pursuers, accepted the 
 chance of being seen, dashed across the fifty 
 feet of pasture, and plunged into the black 
 fringe of woods. 
 
 Although I felt safe until the coming of 
 daylight, I burrowed yet deeper into the cov 
 ert, forcing passage through a dense under 
 growth, until I emerged into what appeared 
 to be a narrow glade devoid of brush. I sank 
 exhausted, breathing heavily from exertion, 
 and sought to locate my enemies by the sound 
 of their voices as they called to each other. 
 They were evidently searching the huts, for 
 I could see far off through the screen of bushes 
 [106]
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 and trees little flashes of fire, as of torches 
 flaming in the air. Then a squad of horsemen 
 rode along the edge of the wood, swearing 
 grimly and shouting to the men on foot. The 
 search of the village was being conducted 
 carelessly and in haste, and I overheard scraps 
 of conversation borne by the wind proving 
 the guards believed we had already escaped 
 on the stolen horse, and were well beyond 
 reach. Only the fierce insistence of the mad 
 dened Awlright, hoping against hope, kept 
 the men at their task, while Dorn, roused from 
 his drunken stupor, led his mounted squad 
 through the fields in wide circuit seeking to 
 intercept us. As my labored breathing ceased, 
 and I felt a return of strength to my limbs, a 
 renewed confidence came, and I could think 
 clearly. 
 
 Of one fact I was certain Mademoiselle 
 had assuredly escaped from the village; other 
 wise the search of the huts would have re 
 vealed her presence. The searching parties 
 had found nothing. And she must have ap 
 propriated the horse, dodging in that direc- 
 [107]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 tion, while I was seeking her. But why? 
 What purpose could she have had in thus run 
 ning from me? It could not be the dispatch, 
 for I still retained the paper in my posses 
 sion I could feel it crinkle in the pocket of 
 my jacket. Nor could I conceive that it was 
 distrust of my faith, a mere desire to escape 
 my presence, which accounted for the action. 
 
 However possible this, indeed, might be, 
 considering her discovery that I had been the 
 cause of her brother's death, yet it did not 
 seem reasonable that a woman of her high 
 spirit would flee heedlessly into the night 
 merely to escape my company for a few hours. 
 All considerations of safety would urge a dif 
 ferent course, and, if she sought revenge, it 
 could be achieved much quicker by denounc 
 ing me to the first French picket. That would 
 be the easiest way for her, and the surest; 
 there was nothing to be gained by leaving me 
 alone, or by a solitary ride through dangerous 
 country. 
 
 Yet the more I thought the deeper became 
 my perplexity. What could be the expla- 
 [108]
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 nation of her sudden disappearance? I had 
 seen no one, heard no one, about the vil 
 lage. My absence from her involved but a 
 few minutes, nor had I gone any distance. 
 Had there been the slightest struggle the sound 
 would surely have reached my ears through 
 the silence of night; while the conception 
 that friends had come, with whom she had 
 gone away quietly, was, to my mind, beyond 
 all possibility. Well, if I could not penetrate 
 the veil of mystery, I might feel assured that 
 she was already well beyond pursuit of these 
 English guardsmen. She was not hiding in 
 the village, and so, without doubt, was safely 
 in the saddle, riding straight for the French 
 lines. 
 
 The searchers had now disappeared from 
 sight, the collection of huts having been 
 ransacked without result, and the voices of 
 the men sounded farther away. The squad 
 of horsemen had vanished in the darkness 
 around the edge of the wood, and I was safe 
 enough from discovery until daylight. Then, 
 it was likely, a detail would be sent to scour 
 [109]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 the forest also and, if possible, discover some 
 trail. I imagined there was already a tinge 
 of gray along the eastern sky, and that I could 
 perceive more clearly the objects about me. 
 Surely the night must be nearly spent, and 
 dawn close at hand. I drank at a stream run 
 ning through the glade in which I hid; then 
 crossed, and clambered up the opposite 
 bank, moving slowly, and feeling passage 
 through thick woods until I came to the sum 
 mit of a low hill. Here trees had been felled, 
 and I discovered the ruts of a road. With 
 out in the least knowing where it led in 
 deed, having lost all sense of direction I 
 decided to follow it, as affording easier walk 
 ing. I chose to turn to the left, as that course 
 pointed away from the village, although I 
 soon learned the road circled and turned like 
 a great snake in the avoiding of obstacles. 
 However, it kept to the forest, and I stumbled 
 forward through the darkness for fully an 
 hour, my limbs bruised by stumps, my face 
 scratched by branches before the way sud 
 denly emerged at the edge of the woods. By 
 [no]
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 this time a sickly dawn was in the sky and I 
 became aware that I was traveling southward. 
 
 Beyond this knowledge there was little to 
 guide me. The landscape faintly revealed 
 by the dim twilight had no familiar features. 
 I stood under the tree shadows, listening and 
 looking, puzzled to know where to pro 
 ceed, my whole body aching from fatigue. 
 So far as I could determine the mere trace 
 of a road, overgrown by weeds, ran directly 
 forward across a morass, the rank, coarse grass 
 high on either side. Beyond this were hills, 
 some of them rock-faced and precipitous, 
 thinly fringed with trees, but appearing bare 
 and desolate. Nowhere could I perceive any 
 sign of human habitation not even a squalid 
 hut, or smoking chimney. There was no 
 sound, no moving figure, nothing that bespoke 
 life. The light of the dawn increased as I 
 gazed, widening my vista, and revealing ob 
 jects more definitely. Grotesque forms took 
 shape, enabling me to determine their nature. 
 
 At last I realized that what I had originally 
 mistaken for a mere rock-faced hill was in 
 [in]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 reality the ruins of an old castle. Far away 
 as it was I could trace the walls, the barbette, 
 the tower, and could even discern the black 
 shadow where the gate had been. I stared at 
 it fascinated, tracing its dimensions, half con 
 vinced my eyes played me a trick. Even in 
 its ruins the place was 'impressive; even at 
 that distance I recognized it as having been 
 a great stronghold in its day, and ransacked 
 my memory to recall the legends of the neigh 
 borhood. 
 
 Eglinton, Boisleux, Maubeuge no! these 
 were to the north and east, and were never 
 of such dimensions. Roiself God knows 
 where the name came from, out of what cell 
 of memory it leaped, who it was who had 
 ever told me the story yet I knew I had 
 named the spot, and with the word came a 
 swift flood of indistinct chronicles. Roiself 
 Ay! that was where some king of France had 
 fled for refuge, and held court while terror 
 swept the land. And they besieged him there, 
 tunnelled the great walls, and killed him, 
 fighting sword in hand, in the banquet hall.
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 'T was said a thousand knights died that day. 
 Why that would be three hundred years ago I 
 I could not even remember the name of the 
 king, or the cause of the quarrel. Roiself 
 The picture of those old days seemed to arise 
 before me; there were gay times before the 
 besiegers came laughter and merriment, 
 dancing, wine, and song. The stone flags of 
 the court-yard rang to the tread of armed men 
 in suits of mail; men-at-arms guarded the 
 walls, and the great halls were scenes of riot 
 ous revelry. Cavalcades came and went amid 
 jest and laughter, the prancing of gaily ca 
 parisoned steeds, the fluttering of pennons. 
 The sun glinted on helmets, on breast-plates 
 of steel, while snowy arms waved from the 
 barred windows. 
 
 The scene thus presented was a vivid one, 
 yet I could not remain there to reflect upon it, 
 or evoke visions of the past. I must find 
 shelter, some place in which to hide from Awl- 
 right's searching parties, until darkness came 
 again. These drear ruins of Roisel promised 
 protection, if nothing more. Even if the
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 guardsmen rode that way, there would be 
 places amid that pile of masonry where I 
 could hide from any possible discovery. The 
 matter of food must take care of itself, yet it 
 might be I would find frightened peasants 
 cowering among the crumbling stones in 
 habitants of the not distant village who 
 would share with me whatever they possessed 
 to sustain life. They would be French, and my 
 uniform, torn and disreputable as it was, was 
 still recognizable. Not one among them 
 would dare affront a Royal Irlandais, and the 
 iron hand of Lord Clare. They might hate, 
 but fear would prove the stronger. The Bri 
 gade ever paid its debts, and few in those parts 
 had not learned the lesson. 
 
 At least I had no other choice, as to remain 
 in the open would expose me to every danger. 
 I crossed the cleared space quickly, stooping 
 low at a run, but felt far safer when the tall, 
 swamp grass concealed my movements from 
 either side. The road was an old one, long 
 disused, overgrown with weeds, and narrowed 
 by encroaching vegetation. There had been
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 a time however, when it must have been the 
 scene of heavy traffic, for the ruts were deep, 
 and horses' hoofs had left permanent imprints 
 in the soil. But these were all ancient, not 
 even a broken grass blade revealing any late 
 passage. It was a crooked causeway, follow 
 ing a slight crest through the swamp land, and 
 some of the distance appeared to be of artifi 
 cial construction. 
 
 Once or twice I came to spots where the 
 water had undermined the earth leaving 
 barely a footpath, yet found no serious diffi 
 culty in pressing steadily forward. The road 
 emerged at the opening of a ravine, and thence 
 disappeared up a low hill to the right of the 
 castle, becoming more indistinct as the ground 
 grew rocky. A dim path circled the foot of 
 the hill, apparently leading toward the gray 
 walls, and, after a moment's hesitation I fol 
 lowed it. 
 
 It required but a few steps to place me in 
 
 full view of the ancient pile, and I stood still 
 
 in surprise, gazing curiously at the gray mass, 
 
 the walls, overgrown with vegetation, looking 
 
 ["5]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 desolate and grim in silent desertion. Evi 
 dently the place had been harried, but not 
 destroyed; indeed it would have required years 
 to have razed those walls of stone. Fire had 
 done its work; neglect and frost had made 
 breaches ; growing trees had pried great stones 
 asunder, and there were evidences in plenty 
 of the destructive efforts of men. Yet the Cas 
 tle of Roisel still stood there mighty and awe- 
 inspiring even after the desertion of centuries, 
 as grimly defiant as when it sheltered an army, 
 and was the safeguard of a king. 
 
 My eyes traced the stupendous sweep of the 
 walls, solid and unbroken, rising to the bat 
 tlements above. Overtopping these were tow 
 ers, with long embrasures through which hung 
 creeping vines, vividly green against the gray 
 stone. The wide entrance was open, the huge 
 gates, once guarding it, destroyed, while the 
 drawbridge had been burned, a bare remnant 
 remaining to tell its fate. There was water 
 in the moat, but of no great depth, and the 
 path I followed led directly down the steep 
 bank. Opposite was a low stone building, 
 [116]
 
 THE CASTLE OF ROISEL 
 
 built on a rocky shelf, the castle wall forming 
 its inner side, apparently designed as a guard 
 house, but now overgrown with clinging vines. 
 It promised shelter, however, and preparing 
 myself for the adventure, I waded the moat, 
 finding the water scarcely knee high, and 
 clambered up to the surface of the rock. A 
 tree, of considerable size, blocked the door 
 way, yet sufficient room remained for entrance, 
 and I squeezed through into the semi-darkness 
 of the interior. 
 
 It was an eerie place, shrouded in gloom by 
 the growth of vegetation which shadowed ev 
 ery opening, and as bare as one's hand. There 
 was a fireplace at one side, and a stone bench, 
 but nothing else, if I except a huge rowel 
 spur in one corner, the leather green with 
 age, the steel a mass of rust. That alone was 
 evidence of the time which had elapsed since 
 the spot had been visited ; and, as I pushed it 
 into a corner with my feet, the rotten leather 
 fell apart. Yet, but for dust, the place was 
 clean, and safe. I could rest there without 
 fear, and I rolled up my coat for a pillow,
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 and lay down on the bench, which was broad, 
 and slightly hollowed. The stone made a 
 hard bed, but I was not unaccustomed to that, 
 and very tired. There was no sound save the 
 wind in the leaves, and I was not long in fall 
 ing asleep, 
 
 [118]
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS 
 
 SLEEP was deep and long for my fatigue 
 had been extreme, and when I roused up 
 at last, aching in body from my hard bed, the 
 sun was setting. I heard no sound. I sat up 
 with difficulty, and was at once conscious of 
 hunger. Standing in the entrance to the build 
 ing, sheltered from observation by the tree, 
 I gazed out across the morass toward the 
 wood which had protected my escape the pre 
 vious night. The distance was too great for 
 any certainty of identification but dark specks, 
 possibly a squadron of horse, was moving 
 north beside the edge of the forest. I watched 
 carefully until assured it had passed beyond 
 the road, perhaps on march for the camp of 
 the allies at Cambrai. One thing was certain, 
 whether seeking me or not, the force was not 
 one of French troops. It was with relief I 
 saw the last straggler disappear behind the
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 green veil, and realized my place of refuge 
 remained undiscovered. 
 
 But where should I turn, and how proceed? 
 I must procure food, and I needed a horse, 
 yet where to go in search of either was a prob 
 lem. Nowhere had I seen the slightest sign 
 of any inhabitants. Indeed, the entire sur 
 rounding country appeared deserted; if it had 
 ever been occupied the people had been driven 
 away, and were now hiding from observation. 
 Fear of the allies, and distrust even of their 
 own troops, had depopulated villages, and sent 
 the peasants fleeing to the hills and woods for 
 refuge. The possibility that some of these 
 hapless refugees might have sought shelter 
 amid the ruins of the castle, urged me for 
 ward along the edge of the moat to investigate 
 more closely what was hidden behind those 
 silent gray walls. I confess to a feeling of 
 dread as I drew near the gaping entrance, the 
 vastness and somber silence of the place af 
 fecting me strangely. It was as though I in 
 vaded a huge tomb, and I think I should have 
 turned away, reluctant to explore further, con- 
 
 [120]
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS 
 
 vinced there was nothing amid those gloomy 
 ruins to reward effort, had I not suddenly no 
 ticed the fresh prints of a horse in the dirt of 
 the causeway. 
 
 This unexpected discovery startled me into 
 new life. I stared at the hoofmarks, scarcely 
 realizing their significance for a moment, yet 
 now plainly seeing that the animal had evi 
 dently been ridden up the bank, and in 
 through the unguarded entrance. They were 
 easily traced, but, once within the courtyard, 
 the hard paving stones permitted no impress, 
 and the trail vanished utterly. Ordinarily this 
 would not have seemed so strange, for some 
 peasant farmer might have chosen the place in 
 which to hide his horse from the foragers, but 
 the imprints were of small hoofs, well shod, 
 undoubtedly the mount of a cavalryman. And 
 whoever it was, the rider had entered the grim 
 portals, and was still within. 
 
 The outer walls were bare, and, in places, 
 crumbling. Great stones, fallen from the top 
 lay below, and others tottered in readiness to 
 fall. Except for piles of debris these afforded 
 
 [121]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 no opportunity for concealment. There must 
 once have been heavy oaken platforms the 
 entire length strong enough to mount cul- 
 verins, and sustain soldiers prepared to resist 
 assault but these had long since disap 
 peared, although here and there appeared the 
 wreck of the framework rotten with age. The 
 courtyard also was full of debris, the nature of 
 which it was hard to distinguish rocks and 
 dirt, the rotting trunks of trees, flags upheaved 
 by frost, and stones, fallen from the battle 
 ments. Shrubs grew between the loosened 
 stones, and even trees of considerable size had 
 found lodgment in the exposed soil. 
 
 I cannot fitly describe the drear desolation 
 the place presented in the grim shadow of 
 those half ruined walls shutting out the sun 
 shine. The knowledge of what had once oc 
 curred here, the tragedy of battle and death, 
 the scenes of carnage and despair witnessed 
 by those gray stones, the silence brooding 
 everywhere, affected me more than I can tell. 
 Soldier though I was, accustomed to battle 
 and bloodshed, I felt almost the timidity of a 
 [ 122]
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS 
 
 child in the dark. Not only the spectres of the 
 past lurked in the shadows, but a present mys 
 tery also confronted me. Somewhere amid 
 these ruins hid the rider of that horse, and, 
 whether he prove enemy, or friend, I could 
 not remain indifferent to his presence. My 
 own necessities compelled me to seek him out; 
 through friendship or force, I must obtain the 
 use of the animal. Ay! and that was not all! 
 The thought had come to me that this might 
 even be the horse stolen from the village 
 Awlright's and if so its recovery would re 
 veal the mystery of the disappearance of 
 Mademoiselle. 
 
 But in which direction should I turn in 
 search? There was nothing to guide me, and 
 I must conceal my own movements with ut 
 most caution. Directly facing the gate arose 
 the solid walls of the deserted and ruined cas 
 tle, outwardly showing few signs of the wreck 
 of centuries, although there were evidences a- 
 plenty of fire, and the great doors and shut 
 ters had disappeared. It was a massive pile, 
 not high, except for the towers, but so strongly 
 [123]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 built from great blocks of stone as to defy de 
 struction. These were stained by wind and 
 weather; creeping vines festooned their front, 
 and altogether it possessed a grim, menacing 
 aspect, that left me dreading to explore its 
 black interior. Stone steps, some of them 
 crumbling, so as to leave but a narrow passage, 
 led upward to the main entrance, beyond 
 which my eyes could not penetrate. All about, 
 from wall to wall of the battlements, were 
 smaller stone structures, all of them gutted by 
 fire. The vacant windows, and doorless en 
 trances permitted me vague glimpses of in 
 teriors bare as the courtyard without. Some 
 of the roofs had fallen, and the floors were 
 piled high with debris. 
 
 A glance told me the nature and former use 
 of most of these buildings. Here, close to the 
 gate, was the ancient guardhouse, and on 
 either side of the great castle itself stood the 
 one-storied barracks, roofless now, and more 
 completely wrecked than any of the other 
 structures. I could see the interiors from side 
 to side, and the trees growing within. Be- 
 [124]
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS 
 
 yond these were the stables, almost entirely 
 demolished, and what might have been the 
 arsenal, a round building, windowless, and of 
 solid stone, showing no sign of injury except 
 for its yawning entrance. 
 
 Much had been destroyed, only the stone 
 structures remained intact, survivors of as 
 sault, fire and rapine, although many a shape 
 less mound told where some less substantial 
 structure had once stood. Surrounding all 
 were the battlements, massive and unbroken. 
 Whether or not, these were pierced behind the 
 castle I could not judge, but I saw no opening 
 except the one through which I had found 
 entrance. Nor did I perceive anywhere a 
 movement, or hear a sound, which told of any 
 other presence. The silence, the desertion of 
 the centuries, seemed all about me. I knew I 
 was not alone; something within me sensed 
 danger, and held me vigilant and cautious; 
 and yet, except for those hoofprints, I would 
 never have believed man had been there for 
 a hundred years. 
 
 But I could not remain where I was crouch-
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 ing behind the walls of the guardhouse. I 
 took fresh hold on courage, and with teeth 
 clinched stole forward to examine the portion 
 of courtyard concealed from where I had for 
 merly stood. This new view afforded me lit 
 tle satisfaction, for whatever buildings had 
 originally occupied that vacancy, must have 
 been of temporary construction, and had been 
 destroyed. There were great piles of debris 
 against the outer walls, concealing any possi 
 ble gateway leading back into the hills. There 
 was indeed a breach, but far too high up to 
 offer any possibility of exit. No hoofprints 
 were visible anywhere. 
 
 High above me arose the unbroken walls 
 of the castle. It alone furnished sufficient con 
 cealment, and, although I could not compre 
 hend how a horse might be led up those 
 crumbling steps, I could perceive no other 
 place where an animal might be safely stabled, 
 and remain undiscovered. The other buildings 
 were such utter ruins, and choked with debris, 
 and filled with vegetable growth, as to be im 
 passible. Besides, the theory that the animal 
 [126]
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS 
 
 had been compelled to mount the solid stone 
 steps would alone account for the sudden dis 
 appearance of hoofprints. The dust and dirt 
 of the courtyard, had a turn been made to 
 either right or left, would surely have re 
 vealed a plain trail, impossible of conceal* 
 ment. I could plainly see where I had stepped ; 
 every imprint of my boot showing clear and 
 distinct 
 
 Convinced of this, and feeling confident I 
 had not thus far been observed, I retraced my 
 steps through the fringe of bushes growing 
 close against the wall, and approaching the 
 steps. There were only four or five, broad 
 slabs of stone, somewhat worn and chipped, 
 yet so massive as to have successfully defied 
 all attempts at destruction. One, indeed, had 
 been forced aside in some manner, yet enough 
 held in position to permit comparatively easy 
 passage. The wind had swept these bare of 
 dust, so they betrayed no sign of recent use. 
 I gazed up at the wide entrance, bare except 
 for two huge iron hinges mortared into the 
 wall, and through into the gloom beyond. All 
 [127]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 I could distinguish was a section of vaulted 
 roof, and an immense timbered beam. With 
 a hasty glance about, I mounted the steps, and 
 slipped silently through the opening. 
 
 I found myself in a vast hall, stretching the 
 full length of the building, with three narrow, 
 but high windows at the opposite extremity. 
 These were unshuttered, and the light thus ad 
 mitted rendered the whole apartment visible. 
 Yet there was little enough to see, except the 
 bare flags composing the floor, the rounded 
 arch of the ceiling, the nature of which I was 
 unable wholly to determine, and the stone 
 benches, some overturned and broken along 
 the side-walls. Immense beams, evidently 
 trunks of great trees, squared by the broad- 
 axe, and ingeniously spliced with bands of 
 copper, ran crosswise, close enough together 
 so their combined shadow obscured the view 
 above. Darkened by age, and not a few among 
 them blackened and charred by fire, these 
 added to the gloom of the place. The flames 
 had eaten through one log, and the two charred 
 ends hung dangling nearly to the floor. Of 
 [128]
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS 
 
 furnishing there was none; not even a sug 
 gestion as to how this vast hall was once dec 
 orated in those far off days when a king had 
 held proud court between these walls. 
 
 No doubt vandal hands had borne away or 
 destroyed the gorgeous tapestries, the couches 
 of leather, the robes of rare skins, the glitter 
 ing armor, with which once this space had 
 been resplendent. Only the bare stones re 
 mained, sombre and gray, discolored in places 
 by smoke, with here and there a green patch 
 of moss clinging desperately to the surface. 
 It was a gloomy, eerie place, so desolate as to 
 chill the blood, silent as death, its vastness en 
 hanced by the arched openings leading from 
 either side dark, mysterious corridors, 
 stretching far away past regal apartments, 
 long since deserted and voiceless, all their for 
 mer occupants dead and gone. 
 
 I was young, ever bold enough in any ven 
 ture, but here I faltered, staring about me in 
 the semi-darkness, afraid to advance, awed by 
 the silence, and in dread of the unknown. It 
 was as though I must face specters of the past,
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 not living flesh and blood, and I shrank from 
 my own imagining, seeing everywhere gro 
 tesque shadows, and hearing sounds that 
 thrilled me with horror. The wind moaned 
 through the narrow window slits, and my 
 quick breathing seemed to echo back from the 
 bare walls. Tread softly as I might the noise 
 of my boots on the stone floor was alarming, 
 and the slight, unexpected jangle of my sword, 
 as I turned suddenly, sent my heart throb 
 bing. I know not of what I was afraid ; but it 
 seemed as though phantom hands clutched me, 
 and dead lips laughed in my ears. My feet 
 seemed like lead, and the blood in my veins 
 almost ceased to circulate. Yet I retained suf 
 ficient manhood to swear at this momentary 
 cowardness, and to force my body forward. 
 It was as though I commanded another, and 
 compelled obedience. 
 
 Why I chose the opening I did I may never 
 know; perchance merely because I faced that 
 way, or it might have been Fate leading me 
 on with unseen hands. Yet I approached, and, 
 leaning forward, peered fearfully along the 
 [130]
 
 darkened passage leading to the left. It was 
 a long hallway, some ten feet in width, the 
 roof beyond reach of my hand, the floor un 
 even, a flight of stone steps half-way between 
 me and the further wall. Misty twilight left 
 the whole scene ghostly, and obscured details, 
 for the single narrow slit at the end of the 
 passage was entirely overgrown with vines. I 
 could perceive nothing to alarm, no occasion 
 for fear, yet I trembled like a craven as I ad 
 vanced, starting at every shadow. 
 
 [131]
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 I RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 COURAGE returned as I moved forward, 
 encountering nothing unusual. There 
 were chambers on either side; those to the 
 right dark and unlighted, indeed scarcely 
 more than cells dismal holes in the wall, 
 unventilated, each containing only a stone 
 sleeping bench. To what original use such 
 miserable quarters could have been dedicated 
 it was difficult to imagine, unless occupied by 
 servants or guards. Some formerly had doors, 
 for an occasional hinge remained; huge rem 
 nants of iron, roughly hammered out by hand, 
 proof of the massive oaken slabs they once 
 were obliged to support. Not a fragment of 
 the wood remained, although there were heaps 
 of ashes. 
 
 Other entrances were arched, possibly at 
 
 one time protected by heavy curtains, and in 
 
 one of these cells, considerably larger than its 
 
 fellows, near the foot of the steps, was a rude 
 
 [132!
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 stone fireplace, though where the smoke found 
 egress I could not determine. Beyond this 
 I was startled to discover the skeleton of a 
 man half upheld against the wall apparently 
 in the very posture in which he had died. 
 These investigations were carried on more by 
 sense of touch than sight, the dim light af 
 fording but slight assistance. Yet I was too 
 practiced a soldier to venture forward with 
 out assurance no enemy hid in the rear, for 
 it was the living and not the dead whom I 
 had cause to fear. 
 
 On the opposite side, however, there was 
 more light, the apartments being spacious and 
 of much greater interest, although equally 
 barren of furnishing and decoration. Indeed 
 I could expect nothing of such sort to re 
 main, even in ragged remnant, for had it es 
 caped the sack the rapine of foul hands 
 the lapse of time alone would have left but 
 rotting shreds, or heaps of dust. Yet I could 
 perceive where tapestries had hung, and in 
 one apartment found by chance the spring of 
 a secret door that opened on a stair down 
 [133]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 which I stared into pitch darkness, imagining 
 I could hear the faint trickle of water far 
 below. 
 
 Beyond this room, the connection an arched 
 doorway, was an apartment almost circular 
 in form, with a stone basin in the center, sur 
 rounded by steps, no doubt a bath, although I 
 could trace no entrance of water pipes. These 
 rooms had high windows, protected without 
 by rusted iron bars set solidly in the stone. 
 The floors were stained and discolored. Be 
 yond the bath the apartments were smaller; 
 although spacious enough to be regal, if fur 
 nished, and hung with drapery, as I imagined 
 they once were, the ceilings high, and the 
 floors curiously inlaid with various colored 
 stones. So far as I could perceive there had 
 been no serious destruction by fire here, but 
 the clipped walls exhibited signs of violence, 
 while not a shred remained in evidence of 
 old time occupants. The barrenness was de 
 pressing, the whole place seemed like a char- 
 nal house, filled with ghosts and hideous 
 memories. 
 
 [i34]
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 I stood again in the dimly-lit hall at the 
 foot of the flight of stairs, feeling the futility 
 of further search in that direction and al 
 most convinced the ruin was uninhabited. Not 
 for years, so far as I could see, had even chance 
 visitors invaded these silent rooms. Nowhere 
 in the dust appeared the imprint of a foot, or 
 the slightest evidence of human presence. The 
 silence was profound, impressive. I could 
 count my heart beats. Surely there was noth 
 ing more to seek, or discover, along that de 
 serted passage only similar bare, desolate 
 rooms, and perchance other skeletons to yield 
 thrills of horror. Yet I crept on up the stair 
 that I might gain a glimpse of what was be 
 yond, before turning back. 
 
 At first glance I perceived nothing other 
 than what had greeted me below then I 
 stared wonderingly at an iron door an iron 
 door closed by an oaken bar. Surely the cen 
 turies had never left that untouched. Here 
 was something modern, an evidence of liv 
 ing man! I slipped along the wall, alert once 
 more, and cautious, until I could reach the 
 [i35l
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 wood with my hand. Until then I had al 
 most distrusted my eyes, but with contact be 
 came convinced it had been freshly cut, and 
 fitted to the sockets. I stood breathlessly lis 
 tening, my ear close to the iron barrier. As 
 I lived there was movement within the faint 
 scuffling of feet on the stone floor, the clear 
 ing of a dry throat, the rattle of a small chain. 
 Something told me the prisoner within was a 
 man, and I drew my sword so as not to be 
 taken unawares, should he prove free and des 
 perate. Then, noiselessly as possible, I lifted 
 the stout wooden bar from the sockets, set it 
 down against the wall, and swung open the 
 heavy door. 
 
 What I beheld left me poised in the en 
 trance, the point of my blade dropped, my 
 eyes surveying the interior. There was suf 
 ficient light streaming in through the bars 
 of a high, narrow slit in the wall, to enable 
 me to perceive every detail at a glance : a great 
 carved chair of oak, massive in its frame, but 
 sadly hacked and splintered; a stone couch 
 covered by a huge skin ; a litter of straw in one 
 [136]
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 corner, and a round block of wood, the butt of 
 a log, on which rested a pewter platter con 
 taining food and a panikin of water. Stand 
 ing facing me, at the full length of a chain, 
 was a man with hair disheveled and un 
 combed, his beard black and straggling, his 
 dress an undershirt and a pair of military 
 trousers. I stared into his eyes, unable to 
 speak, at first glance believing him insane. I 
 saw his lips move helplessly, then the words 
 came tremblingly in French : 
 
 " Monsieur! Oh, MonDieu! Monsieur! " 
 " Yes," I answered swiftly, " you are a pris 
 oner?" 
 
 "A week a year I know not; I have 
 not the words to explain, Monsieur. You are 
 a man? a Frenchman? a soldier?" 
 
 "Ay, of the Irish Brigade and you?" 
 " Of the Regiment of Touraine." 
 Our hands met, and he clung to mine con 
 vulsively, his eyes full of tears. 
 
 " The good God must have sent you, Mon 
 sieur," he went on falteringly. " There was 
 no hope none! It is not that I am not 
 [i37]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 brave, Monsieur, I, Emil Gassier. I was a 
 captain in the campaign of Italy, and wear the 
 medal. Non! non! but the chain! the bare 
 wall! the 'Fire Devils'!" 
 
 " The what! " and I started back from him 
 in sudden horror. " What Fire Devils? Not 
 the foul brood of La Porte? " 
 
 " If no, then the black villains lie. I have 
 not seen their master, yet those who have tor 
 tured me are well worthy to serve him. And 
 why not, Monsieur? Is not this the country 
 from whence they first came this St. Quen- 
 tin?" 
 
 Ay, so it was, and I glanced about appre 
 hensively, unable to control the sudden spasm 
 of fear which swept over my body. This was 
 something real, tangible; no phantoms of im 
 agination those ruffians, but flesh and blood, 
 yet with a reputation for devilish cruelty and 
 malignant murder sufficient to make the blood 
 run cold. They were the pitiless scourge of 
 France, with branches everywhere, even in 
 Paris, but originally coming forth from this 
 province of St. Quentin. Who they were no 
 [138]
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 one seemed to know a lawless organization 
 of peasants, led, no doubt, by some genius of 
 crime for purposes of his own, desperate men, 
 hesitating at no outrage, and waging cease 
 less war against society and government with 
 the firebrand as weapon. With them it had 
 ever been night work swift, merciless, re 
 vengeful. 
 
 There were stories floating about of torture, 
 of prisoners held for ransom, of unmention 
 able cruelties perpetrated on helpless victims. 
 And France, struggling against the allies, 
 every man needed at the front, could accom 
 plish little in the suppression of such banditti. 
 A few had been captured more by accident 
 than otherwise miserable creatures, ragged 
 and half-starved, but the leaders remained 
 free, and laughed at the impotency of the 
 government. They ravaged whole districts, 
 operating almost as if under some form of 
 military discipline, leaving devastation and 
 death behind, and the sky reddened by flame. 
 Their chief, known only as La Porte, kept his 
 identity concealed indeed it was reported 
 [139]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 that not one of his followers had ever beheld 
 his face. But that he was a veritable monster 
 of cruelty, a genius at crime, was unques 
 tioned. All this flashed across my mind in 
 stantly as I stared at Gassier, convinced al 
 ready that he spoke the truth. 
 
 " How came you a prisoner to these 
 devils?" 
 
 " I was guarding a wagon train, Monsieur, 
 with twenty soldiers, and they ambuscaded us 
 at night in the wood of Le Nouviou. It was 
 all over like that," and he snapped his fingers. 
 " I saw not one of my men after the first fire, 
 but I was wounded and fell. There were 
 many who attacked us, maybe fifty, but only 
 a few had guns." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " They looted the wagons, and burned them. 
 In the firelight I was found alive, and would 
 have been killed but for the fellow, who 
 seemed to command a big giant of a man, 
 with gray beard. He recognized me as an 
 officer, and made his rabble hold me prisoner 
 for ransom. Two nights I traveled on horse- 
 [140]
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 back until we came here. There were with 
 me only the graybeard and five others. I 
 know not what became of the rest." 
 
 " You came on a horse then," I exclaimed. 
 " It was his hoofprints I saw at the edge of the 
 causeway." 
 
 " Where, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Before the gate: at the end of the draw 
 bridge." 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " No ; I was dismounted beyond the walls, 
 and driven here on foot. It was dark, and I 
 could see little for they struck me if I came 
 to a halt. Perhaps the hoofprints you found 
 were left last night." 
 
 "What happened then?" 
 
 " I do not know, Monsieur. The man who 
 brings me food will not speak a word. But 
 I woke up once to hear voices outside. It 
 was dark and still as a tomb, yet I heard a 
 man swear, and a woman cry out as though 
 hurt. That was all except a scuffle and a blow. 
 I lay awake a long while, but there was no 
 other sound." 
 
 [HI]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " No one passed along this corridor? " 
 
 "I think not, Monsieur; I should have 
 heard if they had." 
 
 "The words they spoke were French? the 
 man swore in that tongue? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 There was not so much as a doubt left in 
 my mind as to whom the unfortunate woman 
 was. Beyond question it must be Mademoi 
 selle d'Enville who had fallen into the hands 
 of these wretches. So assured was I of this 
 fact that knowledge of her predicament, the 
 probability that she was being held prisoner 
 somewhere amid these ruins, served to banish 
 all personal fear. I was there to serve and 
 save her, and it counted but little what might 
 happen to me, or this captain of Touraine. 
 He must have read the change of purpose in 
 my face. 
 
 " What is it, Monsieur? you have a plan to 
 carry out, and at once? " 
 
 "No, not yet; only a purpose. Here, take 
 this knife, and pry apart a link in your chain. 
 Ay, it is good steel, and will stand the work. 
 [142]
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 The food here may I share it? I am nearly 
 famished." 
 
 He sank back onto the floor and fell to test 
 ing the links, barely glancing aside at me as 
 he gave answer : 
 
 " Eat as you will ; I want none of it." 
 
 I watched him, as I ate hurriedly, my mind 
 busy enough, and wondering what sort of a 
 comrade he would prove when the test came. 
 He was a tall, angular fellow, yet with strength 
 enough, and a homely face, somewhat freck 
 led, and oddly shaped at the mouth. But I 
 liked his eyes, which were brown and full of 
 audacity. 
 
 " When does your jailer visit you? " I asked. 
 
 " Once a day; those things were placed there 
 an hour ago." 
 
 " Then he will still be in the castle? " 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, pressing hard 
 on the blade. 
 
 " That I know not; he comes and goes with 
 never a word. He is a negro, and may be 
 dumb." 
 
 I waited until he slipped the link apart, and
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 let the end of the chain fall to the floor; then 
 turned so I could look into his face. 
 
 " Now listen, Captain Gassier," I said ear 
 nestly. " This is no longer merely a question 
 as to whether we get safely out of the clutches 
 of these wretches, or not. That is as it may 
 be; but we must decide now whether we're 
 ready to do our duty as soldiers and gentle 
 
 men." 
 
 His eyes widened in astonishment. 
 
 "You mean fight the fellows?" 
 
 "Ay! if necessary, although we'll try first 
 what can be accomplished by wit and good 
 luck. We cannot leave a woman in their 
 hands." 
 
 " A peasant hussy some plaything of the 
 camps." 
 
 " No, not if my guess be right but a lady 
 of quality, Mademoiselle d'Enville." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Camille d'Enville." 
 
 He chuckled heartily, and the sound an 
 gered me. 
 
 "Oh, ho! the king's dainty lady! That 
 [i44]
 
 / RELEASE A PRISONER 
 
 means a pretty ransom for the scoundrels a 
 rare chance at Louis' private purse." 
 
 "Enough of that!" I interrupted sternly, 
 already on my feet. " Now see here, Captain 
 Gassier, pay heed to me, or you are likely to 
 find this no laughing matter. 'T is true Made 
 moiselle is one of the ladies of the court, and 
 has received favor of the king. Yet what of 
 that? I have been at Paris and at court, but 
 never to hear her name lightly spoken by any 
 lip before. Nor am I of a mind to listen qui 
 etly now. If you seek quarrel there is no 
 easier way, for to my thought the reputation 
 of the lady is well worthy swordplay." 
 
 " I meant nothing, you young hot-head," 
 he muttered, striving to control his own tem 
 per, which, I suspicion, was quick enough. 
 " 'T is only that rumor has it that Louis holds 
 her in high esteem, and would pay well for 
 her safety." 
 
 " Then we will serve Louis, and you may 
 claim the reward of his gratitude. As for me 
 to aid the lady will be enough. Let me tell 
 you first my own story." 
 [i45 I
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 CAREFUL to make brief reference as to 
 why I had fled from the French camp, 
 I reviewed swiftly the details of the past night. 
 He listened eagerly enough, asking a num 
 ber of questions, and, at the end of the narra 
 tive, agreed with my conclusion that it would 
 probably be Mademoiselle who was thus held 
 prisoner. By this time, spurred possibly by 
 the thought of the king's gratitude, the cap 
 tain seemed as interested as myself in an at 
 tempt to discover her place of concealment. 
 Yet he knew even less than I did of the ruined 
 castle, or whether it was occupied by any con 
 siderable number of men. He had been vis 
 ited only by the negro who refused to utter 
 even a word, and seen no one but those mis 
 creants who thrust him there. 
 
 However, we agreed upon the probabil 
 ity that a guard of some kind remained in 
 [146]
 
 /2V THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 the place, yet it was my belief that they used 
 some more secret entrance than the widely- 
 open front gate some passage leading in 
 through the hills at the rear, by means of 
 which they could approach and depart unob 
 served. If this was the rendezvous of the gang 
 or even merely utilized as their prison, 
 wherein safely to hold victims for ransom, the 
 secret would be guarded well, and there must 
 be more or less passing back and forth of both 
 men and horses. Yet there was no beaten trail 
 along the front causeway, no evidence in the 
 courtyard that it was ever traversed. To be 
 sure the ruffians had little to fear from the 
 surrounding peasantry, doubtless allied with 
 them, and in full sympathy with their guer 
 rilla tactics, but both contending armies were 
 close at hand, patrolling the roads, and occu 
 pying the villages, and, whether French, or 
 allies, would alike hold such banditti ene 
 mies. 
 
 We talked it over briefly enough, only to 
 arrive at the decision to explore cautiously, 
 and thus learn all that was possible, before 
 [i47]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 planning any bolder action. Gassier was with 
 out arms, but retained my knife, thrusting it 
 into his belt and expressing an eagerness to 
 be off. Together we stepped out into the cor 
 ridor, and silently closed the iron door behind 
 us. Only a few rooms remained unexplored 
 along that passage, yet I insisted on visiting all 
 before retracing our steps to the main hall. 
 We found them bare and unoccupied, al 
 though one had a barred door, and may at 
 some time have contained a prisoner; indeed 
 there were rags on the floor, bearing some 
 semblance of a uniform, together with a straw 
 litter. Convinced, however, that further 
 search was useless, and discovering no cross 
 passage, we cautiously retraced our steps back 
 to the entrance. Now that I had a compan 
 ion by my side, I no longer felt the dread 
 silence of the place, or its desolate barren 
 ness. Not ghosts, but blood-thirsty men, 
 haunted these corridors, and my whole thought 
 concentrated on the discovery of their pres 
 ence. I heard Cassier's gasp of astonishment 
 as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, and sur- 
 [148]
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 veyed the immensity of the hall which had 
 so impressed me when I first entered. 
 
 " Saint Denis 1 'tis no small ruin this, my 
 Irish friend," he whispered, awe-struck. 
 " Know you aught of its history? " 
 
 "Only a bit; 'twas a ruin three centuries 
 ago, sacked by a mob of mutinous soldiery 
 from Paris. The king sought refuge here, 
 fleeing with his court and guards when the 
 people rebelled. I have no memory of the 
 cause, but 't is said he died like a gallant gen 
 tleman, sword in hand, in the big banquet 
 hall above, and many a knight and lady died 
 with him. Then was the castle given over to 
 the axe and torch, and left a shell of gray 
 
 stone." 
 
 "And 'tis called what?" 
 
 " Roisel but come, we cannot stand gape- 
 ing here. Take that corridor yonder, while 
 I explore this one. Be careful this is no 
 boy's play, although I have small expectation 
 of finding those devils here." 
 
 He disappeared down the passage I pointed 
 out, while I chose the one beyond, but, when
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 we met again, neither had much to report, ex 
 cept that he had picked up the rusted head of 
 an old battle-axe. There were two other nar 
 row hallways we explored before we finally 
 came to the great stairs. Beyond these, which 
 we passed by, resolved first to make certain of 
 the entire lower floor before venturing above, 
 we arrived at what must have been the kitch 
 ens, and storerooms. The latter were black 
 and windowless, but the former proved exten 
 sive enough, although gutted by fire, and ex 
 hibiting no evidence of late use. There were 
 two vast fireplaces, but both chimneys were 
 choked with dislodged stones, and the floors 
 strewn with powdered ashes. In these were 
 no imprint of feet, and we realized at a glance 
 that no one had been there for years. The 
 windows, protected by bars of iron, were lower 
 than those at the front of the castle, and curi 
 osity led me to cross over, and glance out into 
 the courtyard below. At first I perceived 
 nothing more interesting than the gray stone 
 outer wall, broken down in places, and re 
 vealing the forest clad hills beyond. Shrubs 
 [150]
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 clung to the crevices, and trees protruded 
 above the summit, yielding to it all the pic- 
 turesqueness of utter ruin. 
 
 Then my eyes focused on a single-storied 
 building, the walls of stone, the roof thatched 
 with straw, half-hidden under the wall 
 shadow. It was the roof, evidently newly 
 covered, which first riveted my attention, and 
 I had stared at it for fully a minute, doubt 
 ing my eyes, before I distinguished a group of 
 men barely visible beyond the entrance. There 
 was a growth of shrub concealing their pres 
 ence, and had not one fellow risen to his feet 
 and entered the door, I doubt if I would have 
 observed their presence. I motioned with one 
 hand for my companion to join me. 
 
 " See yonder," I said, gripping his shoul 
 der, and pointing through the bars, " where 
 the great breach is in the wall a dozen men 
 are there sitting about a fire." 
 
 We both looked in silence, and I could hear 
 his quick breathing. 
 
 " Ay! " he said, at last, " those are the vil 
 lains. There must be an opening in the wall 
 [151]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 to their back. Can you make aught of them. 
 My eyes fail me at the distance." 
 
 " Little enough; only they are not soldiers. 
 The fellow who went inside, however, wore a 
 cavalry jacket ah! there he is now the 
 leader likely." 
 
 I felt Cassier's hand grip my arm. 
 
 " 'T is the same big brute who brought me 
 here," he whispered. " Can you count the 
 others?" 
 
 " Ten within sight, but there may be more 
 behind the angle of the wall. Ay! there 's an 
 other now a messenger." 
 
 The newcomer, slender as a boy, dressed 
 only in ragged shirt and trousers, and bare 
 headed, stood before the fellow in cavalry 
 jacket, talking and gesticulating. The words 
 were indistinguishable, indeed we could barely 
 hear the sound of a voice. In response the 
 giant said something briefly, and three men in 
 stantly left the group, and disappeared in 
 company with the messenger. The leader re 
 mained, leaning carelessly in the doorway. I 
 turned, and gazed into the face of Cassier. 
 [152]
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 " And how do you figure it all out, Mon 
 sieur? " he asked doubtfully. 
 
 " In this way. The castle is used by these 
 robbing villains as headquarters, where they 
 hide from pursuit, and confine their prison 
 ers. They are safe enough here, for, no doubt, 
 the place has the reputation of being haunted, 
 and no one living in the neighborhood will 
 even venture near. That is why they need no 
 guard at the front. 'T is likely they play ghost 
 at times themselves, whenever they have cause 
 to fear discovery. Below is the nucleus of 
 the gang, and the others join them whenever 
 needed there are plenty ready to share in 
 the spoil." 
 
 " And what shall we do? " 
 
 " Complete our search, of course. Would 
 you leave prisoners helpless in their hands? 
 There must be others hidden away here some 
 where the woman, at least. 'T will be safer 
 for us to wait until dark before departing, and 
 you say the negro jailer makes but one visit a 
 day." 
 
 " 'T is all but, who knows? " 
 [153]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " We take the chance. These fellows be 
 low suspect nothing, and would seem to have 
 other plans on foot. If there be no guard here 
 't is scarcely probable any are posted on the 
 floor above. We are free to explore, with 
 small peril. I would make use of what day 
 light remains." 
 
 I glanced forth again, paying small heed 
 to what he muttered in reply, assured in my 
 own mind that the man would remain beside 
 me. The big leader had disappeared within, 
 no doubt to concoct some fresh villainy, but 
 the group of men still rested idly about the 
 fire, their very attitudes evidencing uncon 
 cern. There was no reason why we should 
 remain watching them. 
 
 Gassier followed me back into the corridor, 
 to the foot of the stairs without protest. No 
 doubt he read determination in my face, and 
 had no wish to be left alone. But whatever 
 might have been his motive, no mere curi 
 osity inspired me to further exploration. I 
 expected to find above the same barren soli 
 tude revealed by those cell-like rooms below 
 [i54l
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 gray stone walls, fire blackened, the floors 
 covered with the undisturbed dust of centuries. 
 There was scarcely a hope left in my mind 
 that Mademoiselle if, indeed, she proved 
 the woman whose voice Gassier had heard 
 would be imprisoned anywhere within the 
 building. If she was captive to these ruffians 
 it was far more likely that she was under 
 guard yonder; yet I must know, know posi 
 tively; never would I be content to achieve my 
 own escape without first assuring myself as 
 to her presence, and the possibility of again 
 serving her. To do less would be a stain on 
 honor, even had I felt no personal interest in 
 the lady herself. And I did feel such inter 
 est. I made no attempt to analyze my feel 
 ing, to even reflect upon what it might mean, 
 yet I was fully conscious that already she was 
 more to me than any other woman had ever 
 been. Her face remained in my memory, and 
 the very thought of her quickened the beat of 
 my pulse. Her gratitude, a word of praise 
 from her lips, a smile of welcome in her dark 
 eyes, would be sufficient reward to me for any 
 [i55l
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 sacrifice, and, not even at the cost of my life 
 would I desert her now to the violence of such 
 wretches. Gassier could do as he pleased, but 
 I meant to search every inch of these ruins 
 yes, and remain here until I learned the truth. 
 The stairs were composed of broad stone 
 flags, somewhat hollowed by the passage of 
 mailed feet, but still staunch and sound enough 
 to upbear an army. Whatever handrail there 
 might have been originally had long since dis 
 appeared, yet the width of the steps rendered 
 the passage safe enough, in spite of the dim 
 light, and the appearance of darkness above. 
 I led the way, grasping the scabbard of my 
 sword to keep it from striking against the 
 stone, aware that the captain followed. At the 
 top we found ourselves plunged into semi- 
 darkness, through which we could distinguish 
 our immediate surroundings only with diffi 
 culty. The floor was of oaken timber, black 
 ened by age, yet exhibiting no especial evi 
 dence of decay. It had even resisted fire, 
 although there were places where the ancient 
 flames had burned deep before dying out, while 
 [156]
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 heaps of ashes proved clearly how all former 
 furnishings had been completely destroyed. 
 It was a scene of utter ruin, yet I stared about 
 fascinated. What light there was came from 
 above, but the openings, which no doubt had 
 originally flooded that interior with sunshine, 
 were now almost completely covered over with 
 vines, through which only an occasional ray 
 penetrated. 
 
 I groped my way forward from the stair 
 head, fearful of the burnt spots in the floor, 
 and hampered by the piles of debris. At first, 
 in the dimness of light, I was obliged to touch 
 objects with my hand, before fully determin 
 ing their nature, but as I thus slowly advanced, 
 my eyes better accustomed themselves to the 
 gloom, and I could perceive more of our sur 
 roundings. We were in a vast hall larger 
 even than that below, but with lower ceiling 
 a huge apartment, appearing almost mon 
 strous indeed in its bare nakedness, the only 
 relief being indestructible stone benches 
 ranged along the side walls, and an immense 
 fireplace at the farther end. Opposite this, 
 [i57]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 and close by the stair-head, was a stone dais, 
 three steps high, projecting slightly from out 
 an arch in the wall. Several openings, arched 
 over by massive oak timbers, yawned to right 
 and left, leading to contiguous rooms, but the 
 center of the vast apartment was bare. 
 
 Beyond question this had been the main ban 
 quet hall. Here, driven up the wide stairs, 
 all that remained of that ancient garrison had 
 gathered gallantly in defense of their king. 
 Here they had died, fighting valiantly to the 
 last, and, on those dais steps, their leader fell, 
 his blood staining the stone. I could seem to 
 hear the crash of steel, the shouts of hate and 
 defiance, the shrieks of fleeing women, the 
 cries for mercy, with which those walls had 
 once echoed. I could see once more the faces 
 agonized with fright, stern with determina 
 tion, hideous with ferocity the mob of 
 blood-crazed assailants rushing about in search 
 of more victims, dragging the tapestry from 
 the walls, and endeavoring to destroy by fire 
 whatever could not be hacked with their steel. 
 
 Half terrorized myself at this picture of ra- 
 [158]
 
 IN THE BANQUET HALL 
 
 pine, feeling almost convinced that ghosts of 
 that old day must still haunt the gloomy shad- 
 dows, I found a passage across the blackened 
 floor, and around the stone step of the dais. 
 Then I stopped, clutching at Gassier, and star 
 ing down at a dead body. 
 
 [159]
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE SECRET STAIRS 
 
 THE man lay on his face, one arm out 
 stretched over the first step, the other be 
 neath his body. Beyond him rested the broken 
 blade of a sword, and his head had been 
 crushed in as though struck by an iron bar. 
 The discovery for the instant left me speech 
 less; it seemed something born of the imagina 
 tion a phantom of the mind. Then Gassier ex 
 claimed: 
 
 " Saint Helene! 'T is the uniform of the 
 Regiment de Roil Mon Dieu! how came the 
 man here? " 
 
 The words aroused me to reality, and I 
 stopped, and turned the dead man's face up to 
 the dim light. He was a man of middle age, 
 of dark, grimy complexion, a prominent nose 
 which had been broken, and deeply set eyes. 
 A scraggly beard covered his cheeks, and his 
 hair was matted and coarse. The corpse was 
 [160]
 
 THE SECRET STAIRS 
 
 indeed clothed in the uniform of the Regi 
 ment du Roi an officer's uniform but the 
 wearer had been no officer, no soldier even. 
 His face, his unkempt appearance, were suf- 
 ficent evidence to convince me of that at first 
 glance. Then what was he doing here, dead, 
 garbed in that blue and gold finery? From 
 what hapless victim had he stripped these 
 clothes? and how had fate finally overtaken 
 him? My eyes met those of Gassier. 
 
 " 'T is no soldier that!" he said, pointing 
 downward. 
 
 "No;" I answered shortly. "His is the 
 face of a villain if ever I saw one, Monsieur. 
 But how came he here, togged out in an offi 
 cer's suit? and who dealt him the death blow? 
 Saint Denis! there must be others besides us 
 skulking in these ruins." 
 
 " Ay! " and he bent down to touch the fel 
 low gingerly, " and it happened not long since 
 the blood has not even hardened ; see." 
 
 It was true as he said, but there was nothing 
 visible about us in evidence of human pres 
 ence. Dim as the light showed, I could still 
 [161]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 see the full length of the great hall, and there 
 was nothing there to cast even shadows the 
 silence so profound that even our whispers 
 came back in echo. Yet assured as I was that 
 we were alone, and unobserved ; that the slayer 
 had already fled, there lingered in my mind 
 the impression that we were watched that 
 somewhere along those blank, bare walls an 
 eye followed our every movement. It was an 
 eerie feeling, which I struggled vainly to throw 
 off, angry at my weakness, and watchful as a 
 lynx. Gassier also stood erect staring about 
 him into the dim, distant corners, as though 
 dreading the same apparition, one hand grip 
 ping the hilt of his knife. 
 
 Confident of his watchfulness, I bent down, 
 unbuttoned the uniform jacket, and ran a 
 hand into the inner pocket, bringing forth a 
 few scraps of paper and a letter. The latter 
 was sealed and addressed simply " The Duke 
 de Saule, Rue de Vie, Paris." I looked at it, 
 turning it over in my fingers, surprised, but 
 unable to comprehend. Saule! No man at 
 the court had greater influence with the king, 
 [162]
 
 THE SECRET STAIRS 
 
 and no man, I was convinced, was a greater 
 villain. Ay 1 and he was the same one to whom 
 his Majesty wished once to give Mademoiselle 
 d'Enville. I recalled her swift words of scorn, 
 the gesture with which she had dismissed him. 
 How came the letter here in that jacket pocket 
 unopened? Was it a secret message dis 
 patched by some officer who had been cap 
 tured and robbed? If so, why did the seal 
 remain unbroken? Had the man been struck 
 down before he could escape? Then how 
 could I account for the letter being left in his 
 possession? Who was it from? For what 
 purpose had it been written? Did it have 
 any bearing on the fate of the lady? 
 
 I hesitated to tear it open, for, although 
 the outer wrapping was unmarked by any 
 stamp of royalty, it nevertheless might be a 
 king's message. In perplexity I turned to ex 
 amine the other papers, but they helped me 
 not at all one was a list of names, with dif 
 ferent sums of money credited to each ; another 
 was a consignment of wine to a mess sergeant, 
 while the third contained a list of names of 
 [163]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 various officers, some of whom I knew, and, 
 next to the last, I read with astonishment my 
 own, and after it was affixed a red cross. 
 Three others in the list were similarly distin 
 guished. Clearly there was no help here, only 
 a deeper mystery. For what purpose was that 
 list prepared? Why were those three names 
 checked in red? Who was the officer to whom 
 this uniform originally belonged? He must 
 have known me and had some design upon 
 me. If I only dared to open the sealed en 
 velope its contents might reveal the whole 
 tale. Yet to do so involved a danger greater 
 than that which now confronted us. If, as I 
 suspected, it was indeed a secret message from 
 Louis to de Saule, no meddler could ever hope 
 for pardon. My position was already too pre 
 carious to assume such desperate risk. The 
 king's anger was more to be feared than any 
 peril from his enemies. I thrust the missive 
 into my own pocket, and arose to my feet. Gas 
 sier was watching my movements, his guard 
 relaxed, and, as I came upright, my eyes 
 glanced beyond him toward an arch in the 
 [164]
 
 THE SECRET STAIRS 
 
 long wall. As I did so a shadow so dim I 
 almost doubted its reality glided across the 
 recess, and disappeared. What it was man, 
 or beast, or merely flickering light, I could not 
 tell; yet something moved. With the instant 
 my every nerve was alert, and my fingers 
 gripped Gassier. 
 
 " Stand there at the stair head," I whis 
 pered fiercely, " and watch. There is move 
 ment yonder." 
 
 I sprang forward, drawing my sword, in 
 tent now only on the one object that of 
 overhauling the fugitive. The recess revealed 
 another room, maybe a third as large as the 
 apartment in which we had found the body. 
 The walls retained traces of decoration, and 
 broken stone images strewed the floor. Pos 
 sibly at one time it had been lined with 
 sculptured figures, and was a scene of splendor, 
 but now the ruin was complete. I did not 
 pause to examine, my eyes perceiving only a 
 narrow opening in the further wall, where a 
 single slab of stone swung outward. Reach 
 ing this I paused, staring up a flight of stone 
 [165]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 stairs ending in utter darkness. There was 
 no sound, no sign of guidance. Yet if that 
 was a man I pursued he must have vanished 
 here, for the room contained no other exit. 
 The walls were of unbroken stone, except for 
 one high-grated window. And the stairs! 
 where did they lead? Either to the tower, or 
 the roof probably, but, if so, the passage up 
 ward must be obstructed, for it was impenetra 
 ble with darkness. I could only grope my way, 
 exposed to any attack from an enemy con 
 cealed above. And, whoever he was, he was 
 a man to be feared that fellow with crushed 
 skull proved this a man desperate enough 
 for any deed of violence. Yet there was a 
 chance he had no suspicion that his stealthy 
 movements had been perceived ; he might not 
 suspect that he was followed. I was reckless 
 enough to grasp this hope, for to call Gassier 
 would be to create alarm, and leave the great 
 stairway unguarded. I must chance it alone, 
 or else let the fellow go. 
 
 With every caution I crept forward, step 
 by step, until almost swallowed by darkness. 
 [166]
 
 THE SECRET STAIRS 
 
 The stairs were narrow and spiral, shut in by 
 solid walls of stone, and I could feel small 
 niches here and there in which candles might 
 have once been set for guidance. In one I 
 touched a bit of metal shaped like a cross, 
 possibly the hilt of a broadsword. I had to 
 trust my groping hand for guidance, but felt 
 no fear of other danger than that which I 
 might encounter in human form. I counted 
 the steps, finding thirty before my eyes per 
 ceived a gleam of light still far above me. 
 It was the slightest ray, cutting through the 
 dense pall, seemingly no more than a reflec 
 tion, yet, to my eyes, trained by darkness, re 
 vealed what was before me. From that point 
 the steps led straight up to a platform, the 
 opening of which was closed. 
 
 The single bar of light streamed through a 
 slight aperture between two stones, scarce 
 wider than a finger. Yet there was nothing 
 to obstruct my passage; no evidence that 
 my presence was suspected, and I crept on, 
 with fresh courage, until I touched the ob 
 struction above. It was a thin stone, fitted 
 [167]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 into grooves cut in the solid rock, and I lifted 
 one end without much difficulty, or the slight 
 est noise. I stood crouched on the second step, 
 the slab of rock tilted just enough to permit 
 my eyes to peer through the crack, and sought 
 to learn something of the situation above. 
 There was ample light, yet I could distinguish 
 little but a rounded segment of wall, which, 
 however, convinced me the opening led into 
 the tower. No shadow obscured the sunlight, 
 and no sound of movement reached my ears. 
 I waited, listening intently, and then, con 
 vinced no one could be near, pressed back the 
 stone out of the way, and lifted my head 
 through the opening. 
 
 There was revealed the interior of a round 
 turret, with narrow window slits, permitting 
 a view outward, and a wider opening leading 
 to the roof, which was protected by a wall of 
 stone. The place was empty but for a dis 
 mounted culverin, red with rust, and, as I 
 drew myself upright, my eyes gazed afar off 
 through one of the windows, across meadow 
 and woods to the distant horizon. It was a 
 [168]
 
 THE SECRET STAIRS 
 
 magnificent view, yet nowhere revealing evi 
 dence of habitation. Beautiful, and fertile 
 as the country appeared, it had been swept 
 bare by war, its houses burned, its fields laid 
 waste. Here and there I could perceive signs 
 of what had been gaunt outlines of chim 
 neys, smokeless and in ruins, with bare and 
 blackened spots where homes had stood. The 
 forest hid the village, but the memory of its 
 desolation only served to render the melan 
 choly picture more complete. 
 
 Far away, ten miles, at least, a considerable 
 column of troops moved slowly along a rib 
 bon-like road, through a rising cloud of dust. 
 There was nothing else to attract the eye, and 
 the sun sinking into the west already cast long 
 shadows. All this I saw in a glance, my real 
 interest as quickly consolidating on the pur 
 pose which brought me there. Someone had 
 preceded me up those stairs: I had been fol 
 lowing no vision, no imaginary figure there, 
 in the dust of the floor were footprints, but 
 they were those of a woman, or a child. Could 
 the fugitive be Mademoiselle! My heart 
 [169]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 leaped eagerly at the thought; for the instant 
 I did not doubt, but rushed recklessly to the 
 door. 
 
 There I stopped as though shot, shrinking 
 back behind the cover of the stone, and gaz 
 ing cautiously forth on a strange, bizarre fig 
 ure, which at first glimpse I could in no way 
 associate with anything human. The creature 
 had climbed into a crevice of the parapet, 
 and was leaning over, gazing down into the 
 courtyard below. All I could see was a 
 humped distorted form, oddly attired in sheep 
 skin, a great bushy mat of hair crowning the 
 head, a long arm, all out of proportion, ex 
 tended along the stone, and a hairy hand 
 gripping the rock. It might have been an 
 ape, dressed up by human hands, for the fig 
 ure was dwarfed, misshapen, even hideous in 
 its deformity. Then the apparition straight 
 ened up, and turned partly around, revealing 
 the face. I crouched back in my covert, yet 
 continued to stare, my nerves steadying, a dim 
 recollection becoming clearer to memory. It 
 was the face of a man of sixty, distorted by 
 [170]
 
 THE SECRET ST4IRS 
 
 ugliness and creased with age, a big face, suf 
 ficient for a giant, the mouth a wide gash, the 
 eyes like wells, the nose flattened as if by a 
 blow. And I knew the loathsome monster, rec 
 ognizing him in a flash, although I had only 
 once before, and that for a brief moment, 
 gazed curiously on his grotesque ugliness. He 
 was the dwarf Gospele, with whom de Saule 
 had horrified Paris. 
 
 [171]
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 THERE could be no mistake no two 
 such monstrosities lived in the world. I 
 
 had seen the imp, gaily enough decked out 
 then, in the very anteroom of the king at Ver 
 sailles, strutting pompously back and forth, 
 indignant at the slight delay in his reception, 
 and railing at the guard who barred his pas 
 sage. 'T was but for a moment, and when the 
 curtains were drawn aside, this devil's brat, 
 flinging back some foul word of contempt 
 across his misshapen shoulder, passed first of 
 all into the presence of Louis. I recalled ask 
 ing who he was, shocked at the fellow's air 
 of impudence, and hideousness, and, with 
 shrug of shoulder which told more than words, 
 the whispered reply: 
 
 " De Saule's private messenger, Monsieur; 
 a spawn of hell picked up in Spain, they say; 
 yet what would you? Is not the duke the 
 king's first friend? " 
 
 [172]
 
 THE DWARFS STORY 
 
 And now the dwarf was here, hiding to all 
 appearances; on some foul mission for his 
 villainous master, no doubt; but what? What 
 possible interest could de Saule have in this 
 ruined castle of Roisel? this rendezvous of bri 
 gands? these malcontents striving to rob 
 France and conspiring against her king? 
 Could he be hand in glove with such villains, 
 playing a double game, selling his honor for 
 the spoils of crime? Parbleu! I would not 
 put it past the fellow from all I had ever heard 
 of him. Yet it was more like the dwarf would 
 be a prisoner, drawn into the thieves' net by 
 some raid, and eager as I to find a safe way 
 out of the place. 
 
 Well, there were means whereby I could 
 learn the truth shortly. I had naught to fear 
 from the imp, and the roof, except for him 
 alone, was empty. A word would unlock his 
 tongue, and, if not, my fingers on his ugly 
 throat would win response. Ay! and I had 
 the will to use them. Not even yet had I for 
 given the look of contempt, the sneer of 
 triumph, with which he had vanished into 
 [i73]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 Louis' chamber, leaving us to wait and sulk 
 behind. 
 
 I stepped forward, and he saw me, sliding 
 down from his perch, and uttering a snarl like 
 that of a beast. His was a fine rage, not un 
 mixed with terror, his shifting eyes seeking 
 some scheme of escape even as he fronted me 
 in pretense at defiance. 
 
 "Ho another!" he snapped. "What 
 have we then a nest of hornets? " and I saw 
 a short iron bar gripped in his hairy hand. 
 " Ah, ha ! a Royal Irlandais, on my life. Well, 
 know you who I am, sirrah? Do you dare 
 threaten me? " 
 
 " Yes, I know," I said coolly enough, 
 amused at his effrontery. " No one would 
 ever forget your ugly face, and I have seen 
 it before. 
 
 " And where, Monsieur? " 
 
 "At Versailles, Gospele but now it is 
 my time to question, and yours to answer. 
 What are you " 
 
 He darted forward across the roof, perhaps 
 seeking some means of escape at the further 
 [i74]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 corner. Yet my thought was that his purpose 
 might be to alarm the guard below, and my 
 hand gripped his sheep-skin robe before he 
 had taken a dozen steps. The little devil 
 fought like a rat, striking at me with his iron 
 bar, until I wrenched it from his hand. He 
 possessed strength, and a malignant hate which 
 made him dangerous, yet it was no trick to 
 master him, and I forced him to his knees, 
 the coward in him whining for mercy. I held 
 him to his feet, shaking the fellow until his 
 teeth rattled. 
 
 " Now will you answer me? " I asked, 
 roughly enough, frowning down into his eyes. 
 " What do you here, Gospele? on some mis 
 sion for your master? Come, speak, or I '11 
 close on that throat of yours like a tiger cat. 
 Are you a prisoner? or in league with these 
 villains?" 
 
 His eyes, searching my face, had in their 
 green depths a look of cunning as he hurriedly 
 cried: 
 
 " I am prisoner, Monsieur." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! Yet you sought to reach the
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 guard with an alarm you feared them less 
 than me?" 
 
 " I was frightened, Monsieur; I knew not 
 who you might be, and you came at me 
 fiercely." 
 
 " Pouf! would you expect me to be gentle 
 as a lamb? You deal with a soldier, Gospele; 
 so give heed to your answers. Is de Saule 
 here? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 I know not why, but some swift instinct told 
 me he lied, and my hand twisted in his 
 garment. 
 
 " Not here! Absurd! I never heard of your 
 being far apart with any deviltry afoot. How 
 came you in this nest of villains? " 
 
 He whined it out, writhing under the pres 
 sure of my fingers, cursing in strange Spanish 
 oaths, and making so much detail, as to con 
 vince me the tale was all false. I listened to 
 the end of his story of fancy, glaring into 
 his face, and seeking somewhere to detect a 
 gleam of truth. Yet I cared so little for what 
 the fellow said that I retain now but vague 
 [176]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 recollection of it. I knew he lied, hoping to 
 escape my grip ; but his words only served to 
 strengthen my purpose. By his story it was 
 some message of de Saule to the king which 
 had brought him into these parts, and made 
 him prisoner to this band of cut-throats. Ay! 
 he cursed them well, dwelling upon his suf 
 ferings, and seeking thus to awaken my sym 
 pathy, yet when he finally paused for breath, 
 I only loathed him the more for his foul 
 mouth. 
 
 " Enough of that," I said at last shortly. 
 " 'T will serve you best, Gospele, to answer 
 me briefly. Who is the woman these villains 
 hold?" 
 
 " The cook, you mean? " 
 
 " No ; not the cook ; I doubt if they have one, 
 and, mark you! I'll have the whole truth, 
 you imp ! The woman brought here last night 
 on horseback who was she?" 
 
 "How should I know, Monsieur I, a 
 prisoner? " 
 
 " Well, you do know, and your lies serve you 
 little. Let your fairy tales go, and answer 
 [i77l
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 me yes or no was the lady Mademoiselle 
 d'Enville? " 
 
 He could not answer, his great mouth open 
 gasping for breath, his eyes full of terror. 
 But there was no need; his very fright was 
 evidence my guess was correct. I shook him 
 as a terrier would a rat, determined now to 
 learn the whole truth so far as he knew it. 
 The fellow was an arrant coward, and would 
 never risk his own precious skin to protect 
 another. 
 
 " Ah I I am on the right trail, I see. Now, 
 Gospele, listen that is a pistol pressing hard 
 into your ribs, with powder and ball behind 
 it. One more lie and I kill you like the dog 
 you are. Tell me now, where is the lady? " 
 
 He rolled his eyes up to mine, but discov 
 ered there no expression of mercy. 
 
 " You would kill me, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Ay, with great pleasure; come, speak." 
 
 " But if I do not know " 
 
 " You do know; so have done with it. See 
 here, Gospele, I am not alone: The great 
 staircase below is under guard. There is only 
 [178]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 one way in which you can save your life. 
 You have more reason to fear me than 
 de Saule, and I speak you now for the last 
 time. Another excuse means the bullet 
 where is she? " 
 
 He gulped, barely able to articulate, but 
 the words came. 
 
 " They are there below they are both 
 safe, Monsieur; I swear it." 
 
 "They?" I stammered. "What do you 
 mean, you little viper? Is she with de Saule? " 
 
 Quick, secretive as he was, I detected the 
 sly menace of his eyes; the sudden hope he 
 felt that even then a lie might possibly save 
 him. I did not know then as much as he had 
 supposed. 
 
 "I I did not mean that, Monsieur," he 
 began, desperately. " You frighten me so I 
 know not what I say. 'T is the lady alone " 
 
 "All right! If you will not answer me I 
 have no more use for you. Now I am going 
 to kill you, Gospele " 
 
 " Mon Dieu, no! I will tell you!" he 
 shrieked. " What care I if you know? "
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " Then say quick is the other de Saule? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur." 
 
 "Who then?" 
 
 " The lady's brother, Chevalier d'Enville." 
 
 For an instant I was fairly stricken dumb, 
 staring down into the ugly upturned face. I 
 could not believe, yet what purpose could it 
 serve for him to say that. 
 
 " You lie again, you dog the man is 
 dead." 
 
 " Dead! " he echoed, his face fairly ghastly 
 as he interpreted the expression of my eyes. 
 " No, no, Monsieur, he is not. I saw him 
 within the hour. I I gave him food." His 
 voice broke, as he realized the mistake of such 
 a confession. " They made me do it, and we 
 conversed. He is not dead, Monsieur." 
 
 I was not even half convinced, but by now 
 had control of myself, and felt it better to 
 humor the fellow. 
 
 " Then it was his uniform on that dead ruf 
 fian below. How came that villain killed?" 
 
 He looked at me, his eyes void of expres 
 sion. 
 
 [180]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 " Where was that? I saw nothing." 
 
 " In the big hall at the head of the stairs, 
 lying before the dais. You were there, for 
 I saw your shadow and followed. Do you 
 mean to say you did not see us? " 
 
 " I saw two men, Monsieur, but they were 
 both alive, and on their feet. I could not tell 
 in the light who they were, but I did not wish 
 anyone to see me, so I slipped away, and came 
 up here. There was no dead man to be seen 
 anywhere." 
 
 " Well there was one, a black-bearded, dir 
 ty-faced fellow, togged out in the uniform of 
 an officer of the Regiment du Roi. He had 
 been struck from behind, and his skull 
 crushed. 'T was such a blow as you could give 
 with that bar in your hand. And you know 
 naught of it? " 
 
 He shook his head doggedly. 
 
 " Nor who he might be? " 
 
 " Black-bearded, and dirty-faced you say. 
 
 Small doubt the fellow was the jailer, Deslins. 
 
 Sacre! I am not sorry, but how he came there, 
 
 or why he wore the chevalier's uniform, I 
 
 [1*1]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 cannot tell. 'Twas not this bar, Monsieur, 
 that crushed his thick skull." 
 
 " Then there will be others abroad. You 
 say the chevalier, and his sister are together? " 
 
 He hesitated, but I choked the answer out 
 of his throat. 
 
 "Not together no. Let go! I cannot 
 speak. I will tell the truth. They do not even 
 know." 
 
 "And you did not tell them?" 
 
 " How could I, Monsieur? I was with 
 Deslins, who made me bear the food. Had I 
 told, the villain would have killed me. It 
 was his threat when he bade me go along." 
 
 I stared down into the dwarf's face unde 
 cided, yet fully convinced that he lied in 
 every way he dared the venture. He told me 
 merely what he must tell in order to save his 
 own miserable neck, but was concealing the 
 real truth. There must be a purpose. It was 
 my judgment the imp was no prisoner. He 
 was alone, unguarded, apparently perfectly 
 free to go and come as he pleased. Even by 
 his own confession he had been on friendly 
 [182]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 terms with the jailer Deslins. Whether he 
 had killed the man or not and on that sub 
 ject I was by no means satisfied he was thor 
 oughly acquainted with the castle, had ex 
 plored its secret passages, and knew where the 
 prisoners were confined. 'Twas little likely 
 this happened by chance. 
 
 The little devil was a villain at heart, easily 
 recognized by his kind, and no doubt willing 
 enough to promise anything to save himself. 
 That might be the way of it.- He had been 
 captured, as he said, while on some venture 
 for his master, but had seen here good sport, 
 with a chance for spoil, and, unhampered by 
 any conscience, had easily become one of the 
 gang. Then another suspicion came to me 
 was it not possible the servant was there on his 
 master's business? It was by no means im 
 possible that de Saule had connection secretly 
 with this band of marauders. He was of 
 reckless character, of no known family, a mere 
 adventurer whose source of income was but 
 a matter of guess. Paris rang with stories of 
 his profligacy, his wild excesses, his continual 
 [183]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 duels. It was only the friendship of the king 
 which gave him place at court ay, and title 
 and this, so it was freely whispered about, 
 came only through his willingness to pander 
 to the vices of his royal master, and to dis 
 cover for him new pleasures. To such a man 
 there would be nothing abhorrent in crime, 
 and his loyalty to Louis would never restrain 
 him. Besides, it could be no mere coincidence 
 that the chevalier and his sister would both 
 be held prisoners here, unknown to each other, 
 and kept separated. There was some purpose 
 in it; and who, besides de Saule, could have 
 any object in such an act? 
 
 It was not clear to me what purpose could 
 have actuated even de Saule in such a deed, 
 but I did know that the man had persist 
 ently sought marriage with Mademoiselle, 
 exerting all his influence with the king to win 
 her consent. But not even the authority of 
 Louis had been sufficient to win it from the 
 lady. There were strange tales about of how 
 she had taunted the fellow, of how she had 
 even refused to recognize him in the very 
 [184]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 presence of the king, of how Louis, in anger, 
 had banished her from court in disgrace, and 
 she had only laughed at his threats, and gone 
 away gaily enough. And there were rumors 
 that de Saule had followed her, only to be re 
 fused audience, and permitted to cool his heels 
 at an inn, in spite of his bearing a king's letter 
 of command; ay! and it was whispered about 
 that the chevalier, hearing all this in camp 
 gossip, had journeyed hastily to Paris, and 
 slapped de Saule's face with his glove, but the 
 cur refused to fight, pleading in excuse for 
 such cowardice his love for the lady and fear 
 of harming her brother. 
 
 These were the indistinct recollections 
 which flashed instantly through my mind. 
 Whether the stories were true, or false, I knew 
 not I had paid small attention to them. 
 But if true then here surely was a sufficient 
 motive for de Saule to resort to force after all 
 other effort had failed. The man was reckless, 
 and desperate enough to take the chance, and 
 whether the fellow was in love with Made 
 moiselle, or the broad acres of her inheritance, 
 [185]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 the game was well worth the candle. And at 
 that he did not risk so much, for, with the 
 king aiding him, he had little to fear in way 
 of punishment, and Louis dearly loved 
 intrigue. 
 
 After all, it might be the king's own sug 
 gestion, easily enough carried out with his 
 abetting. Of course I had no belief the chev 
 alier was there. That was a lie, thought 
 lessly uttered by Gospele, who knew nothing 
 of what had occurred two nights before in the 
 French camp. Why he had told it I could not 
 conjecture, yet my memory of our fight was 
 far too vivid for me to believe now that I had 
 not run the man through, and left him dying 
 when I fled. Much as I regretted the hasty 
 quarrel, and its fatal result, I could not ques 
 tion its reality. D'Enville was dead, and it was 
 my sword that had killed him; it was this act 
 which had made of me a fugitive, which had 
 brought me here. So I knew Gospele lied 
 if there was another prisoner besides Made 
 moiselle confined in the castle it was not her 
 brother. Who he was I meant to know. 
 [186]
 
 THE DWARF'S STORY 
 
 My eyes were on the dwarf, my grip hold 
 ing him helpless. 
 
 " Come," I said sternly. " We have talked 
 long enough. Now lead on." 
 
 "Where, Monsieur?" 
 
 " To where you say the chevalier is con 
 fined ; and do n't venture to play any tricks 
 
 on me."
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 EVEN with a pistol grasped in my free 
 hand I dared not release my grip of my 
 guide's collar. That he was treacherous, fur 
 tively seeking every opportunity to break 
 away, I well knew. Whether in league with 
 these devils, or only anxious to escape from 
 them as well as myself, I could not determine, 
 but that he had lied to me was certain, and 
 hence I suspected the worst. My only safety lay 
 in keeping the imp under complete control. 
 
 He shuffled forward, unwillingly enough, 
 sputtering angrily, and squirming under the 
 pressure of my ringers, until we reached the 
 top of the spiral staircase. With little of 
 gentleness I thrust him through the narrow 
 opening, following down so closely that any 
 hope he might have entertained of escape van 
 ished. By this time he had become silent and 
 sullen, his eyes alone revealing hatred. I had 
 no fear of him, but watched him as a cat 
 [188]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 would a mouse. We came to the foot of the 
 stairs, emerging into the light of the first 
 apartment. It appeared just as when I had 
 passed through there before, grim and silent 
 in its desolation, and I hustled my prisoner 
 forward, under the connecting arch out into 
 the great hall. The sun had sank further into 
 the west, and the shadows were dense, leaving 
 much of the vast apartment obscured. I 
 picked a passage through the debris, until we 
 came to the dead body, now lying face up 
 ward, just as I had left it. Gospele shrank 
 back from contemplating the dread object, 
 but I compelled him to look, determined to 
 be satisfied as to the man's identity. 
 
 " Well," I asked, " is he Deslins? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," the two words choking 
 in his throat. 
 
 " And the clothes they belonged to the 
 prisoner? " 
 
 "I I think they must but I cannot tell 
 that. Do not hold me here, Monsieur. I can 
 not bear to look. The man who was with you 
 where is he? " 
 
 [ 189 ]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 The question was in my own mind, for 
 if Gassier was still at the head of the great 
 staircase, where I had left him on watch, he 
 would certainly have perceived us before 
 now, and endeavored to learn who we were. 
 The light was not sufficient for me to see 
 clearly, yet there was no movement to indi 
 cate his presence. The gloom and silence 
 combined made me suspicious of some new 
 disaster, as I stared about, secretly dreading 
 to discover the truth. 
 
 " He should not be far away," I answered, 
 assuming a confidence I was far from feeling. 
 " Perhaps he has gone down the corridor. 
 Come along: we shall soon see." 
 
 But the man was not there, nor was there 
 any sign of him upon the stairs or along the 
 bare, desolate hall. I did not dare call his 
 name, not knowing who might be lurking in 
 the shadows within sound of my voice, but I 
 searched the near-by rooms, pistol in hand, 
 dragging the protesting Gospele continually 
 after me, afraid to release my hold on the fel 
 low, to no result. What could have become 
 [190]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 of the soldier I could not conjecture. He was 
 certainly not the kind to run away, and desert 
 a comrade in danger, but I could discover no 
 evidences of any struggle. Possibly he had 
 become tired of waiting for my return, per 
 haps had grown suspicious that I had met with 
 disaster, and gone exploring on his own 
 account. 
 
 " Who was he, Monsieur? " asked the 
 dwarf, as I stared helplessly about. " One of 
 your own men? " 
 
 " No, an officer of the Regiment of Tou- 
 
 raine." 
 
 His little pig eyes widened. 
 
 "Ah! the Captain Gassier 1 You found 
 him in a cell below? " 
 
 " Yes; so you knew he was there did you? 
 It seems to me there was not much going on 
 about this castle that you did not know." 
 
 "The jailer made me " 
 
 " Never mind that Gospele," I interrupted 
 
 almost savagely, tired of his lying. " You 
 
 never brought food to the man below, nor did 
 
 Deslins. He told me the only fellow he saw 
 
 [191]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 was a negro. If you knew he was captive 
 there you found it out in some other way than 
 through being obliged to serve him. Look 
 here! " and I shook him angrily. " You have 
 lied to me from the very first word, and I 
 know it. It is not a safe game to try to play 
 with me, for I care no more for saving your 
 life than I would for that of a venomous 
 snake. Now answer what I ask you, and if I 
 catch you in another lie you '11 rue it, my 
 friend. I promise you that, and I happen to 
 know more about this affair than you suppose. 
 You are not a prisoner and your falsehoods 
 only make it worse for you." 
 
 He looked into my face, wetting his dry 
 lips with his tongue, unable at once to frame 
 an answer, puzzled as to how much I actually 
 knew, or how far he might still venture. Cow 
 ardice was in his eyes, and I gave him no time 
 to decide. 
 
 "So you are not! What then on some 
 dirty work here for your master? Is de Saule 
 here?" 
 
 He shook his head, afraid to reply. 
 [ 192]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 " Speak, you dog. Where is he? " 
 
 " In Paris, Monsieur; but 't is true he sent 
 
 me." 
 
 "Ah! so you confess that! So much the 
 better for you, for I was losing patience. He 
 has connection with these brigands then, and 
 makes use of them to carry out his schemes of 
 deviltry? Well come, you know why you 
 were sent, so make a full breast of it. Was it 
 the plan to kidnap Mademoiselle d'Enville? " 
 
 He squirmed under my hand, but it was 
 useless, and he read no weakness or mercy in 
 my eyes. 
 
 " Why you think that, Monsieur? " 
 
 " No matter why I think it; I have reason 
 enough. The rumors of the court are not un 
 known in the French camps. So speak up for 
 you have more reason just now to fear me than 
 de Saule." 
 
 " 'T is not that I fear him, Monsieur." 
 
 "Who then?" 
 
 "The king." 
 
 " Ah ! " I exclaimed. " Now we get down 
 to facts. Parbleu! I thought as much. It is 
 [i93]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 a conspiracy then. Louis would have his way 
 with the maid in spite of her refusal to obey. 
 I begin to understand some things that looked 
 dark before. 'T was arranged, no doubt, that 
 she should leave Paris with dispatches for the 
 army, and be taken en route, and brought here. 
 Sacre! 'Twas a good plan, for the lady was 
 of a spirit thus readily to sacrifice herself. 
 And then, I suppose, when things looked the 
 darkest, de Saule was gallantly to appear as 
 the rescuer, offering to save Mademoiselle 
 from these banditti for the small reward of 
 the lady's hand. A sweet scheme, surely, 
 worthy of a royal brain. Odd luck it did not 
 miscarry, and but for me it would. For by 
 chance she fell into English hands first, instead 
 of these villains who were seeking her, and it 
 was only through my attempt to win her es 
 cape that she was ever made prisoner here. 
 The devil helps his own. And so, Gospele, 
 it was your duty to keep watch over the lady, 
 and inform your sweet master when she was 
 in proper mood, hey? Well, how found you 
 Mademoiselle this morning? Not yet pining 
 [ 194]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 for the duke I venture a guess ; yet surely she 
 knew you, and had some word to say. What 
 was it? " 
 
 " Only to ask how I chanced to be there," 
 with a grimace. " It is few gracious words 
 she has ever given me." 
 
 " 'T is scarce likely she would be more in 
 dulgent to you than your master. She has 
 the wit to know you for two of a kind. And 
 she was not even glad to look on your ugly 
 face in her present predicament. She asked 
 nothing? " 
 
 " Only that I get out of her light. Sacre! 
 she is a high-strung damsel, and was in no 
 mood then for converse. I had my tale well 
 thought out, or she would have tripped me 
 with her sharp tongue. I was not sorry to 
 get out again when the chance came. I never 
 could abide dealing with a woman." 
 
 " Likely not: they are apt to be too keen 
 witted for such brains as yours, and with an 
 instinct to tell them what you are. In spite 
 of your glib tongue I 'd lay a wager Made 
 moiselle read the lie in your face. But we 
 [i95]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 have talked enough. Whatever has become of 
 Gassier there is plenty fronting me while day 
 lasts. Where is it you say the chevalier is 
 confined? " 
 
 He pointed forward, down the gloomy pas 
 sage, but never once took his eyes from my 
 face. 
 
 " Yonder, Monsieur, next to the end," he 
 said with all politeness. 
 
 "And the lady?" 
 
 There was just an instant of hesitation, 
 scarcely perceptible had I been less watchful 
 and suspicious, but the tightening of my fin 
 gers compelled an answer. 
 
 " In the tower room above, Monsieur: the 
 stairs are at the end of the corridor." 
 
 " There is no guard? " 
 
 "Only below in the court. What need? 
 No one comes here," and he crossed himself 
 piously. " 'T is haunted by the dead this 
 castle; at night they walk here, and show 
 ghastly lights. No peasant of St. Quentin 
 would ever venture to put foot within these 
 
 walls. So what is there to fear? Soldiers! 
 [196]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 Bah! Why should they search ruins, where 
 there is no spoil? There are no roads leading 
 here, save that half concealed path across the 
 marsh. A sentinel on the rock above guards 
 that, so no one can approach here unseen." 
 
 " Yet I did." 
 
 " Ay! and I wonder at it. You crossed the 
 marsh? At what hour? " 
 
 " The edge of dawn. I saw no one." 
 
 " 'T was rare good luck. The watcher 
 must have slept, or it was the time of relief. 
 You will not be so fortunate again, Monsieur." 
 An ugly sneer curled his lips, his eyes no 
 longer making any attempt to conceal his ha 
 tred. " What care I what you discover here, 
 or what you make me tell you by threats! 
 'T will serve you little in the end, for you will 
 never go away alive. Bah! you are as much 
 of a prisoner now as if you were locked in a 
 cell and loaded with chains. There is no es 
 cape possible. You think I tell you what I 
 have because I fear you? Parbleut I tell it 
 because it can do no harm for you to know. 
 Were it not so you could skin me alive, and I 
 [197]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 would not speak. Find the chevalier and the 
 lady St. Christopher! I will take you to 
 them gladly enough. But what good will it 
 do? You cannot get away. I hate you, Mon 
 sieur, but I laugh, for I am going to see you 
 when you are dead ; ay! and am going to mark 
 you for every word of insult you have given 
 me. I know how to pay my debts." 
 
 I could have killed the fellow it was in 
 my heart to do so, and my hand was at his 
 throat. Yet his words, vibrant with sudden 
 anger, and ringing true, brought to me a chill 
 which stayed my fingers. In a flash I real 
 ized the desperation of the situation, the peril 
 surrounding me, the small chance of my be 
 ing able to serve Mademoiselle. There was 
 no need of a guard in such a place. What I 
 had supposed was carelessness, and lack of 
 discipline, on the part of these banditti, was 
 only supreme confidence in the security of 
 their retreat, so protected by nature, and su 
 perstition, as to be unapproachable by any 
 enemy. Some strange freak of fortune had 
 won me entrance unobserved, but escape, 
 [198]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 either alone, or with the lady, would seem 
 ingly be impossible. Yet desperate as I now 
 knew the situation to be I was of no disposi 
 tion to despair, nor permit this crooked devil 
 to gloat over me. I would fight it out to the 
 end trusting the saints to guide me, and keep 
 ing a clear head and ready hand. So it was 
 that I stared back into the fellow's face until 
 the smirk of triumph died on his lips. 
 
 " You do well to have your laugh first," I 
 said coldly, " for when I am dead there will 
 not be much life left in you. I have been in 
 toils before this, my dear Gospele, and always 
 found a way out; so save your breath. I '11 
 prove your story first, and then make my own 
 plans. So lead on friend, and be still about 
 
 it." 
 
 " I^ead on where, Monsieur? " his face so 
 ber enough now, " to the lady? " 
 
 " No; I told you before to the chevalier. 
 I believe you lied as to his being here at all. 
 I would assure myself as to that before seek 
 ing Mademoiselle. Come show the way, and 
 attempt to play no trick about it." 
 [ 199]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 He led me straight enough, and watching 
 him the thought became convincing that all 
 he had just said was true. The fellow now 
 really cared but little what discoveries I 
 made, confident that my escape was impos 
 sible, and that any knowledge I might thus 
 acquire of his master's foul scheme would 
 die with me. But this only served to render 
 me more determined to persevere. I was left 
 alone, unaided; Gassier had strangely disap 
 peared, and whether he had fled in sudden 
 terror, striving to escape from those gloomy 
 corridors, ghostly in their shadows, or had 
 been foully dealt with, I could only conjec 
 ture. All I really knew was that he had dis 
 appeared, leaving me to fight the battle. Very 
 well, I would fight to the very end, and 
 while a drop of blood was left in my body. 
 I 'd pit strength and wit against these villains, 
 in an effort to save Mademoiselle, and if I 
 did go down, I would go down fighting like 
 a man and a soldier. I would neither ask 
 mercy, nor yield it and as to this little 
 dwarfed devil, I would soon be rid of him! 
 [ 200 ]
 
 THE EMPTY CELL 
 
 and my hand tightened its grip as the thought 
 came. Ay! I would be free of him, and take 
 my own chances. Courage and wit might 
 solve this riddle, and they were the cards I 
 could ever play best. But first I must be rid 
 of this spying Gospele. 
 
 We came to an oaken door, the wood of 
 which looked freshly cut, and tightly enough 
 fitted between the stones of the wall. The 
 dwarf made an odd noise at discovery that it 
 stood ajar, but I pressed him roughly through 
 the opening and took hasty survey of the in 
 terior. It was unoccupied, although there 
 was every evidence that it had lately held 
 someone, for there was food in a stone dish 
 on the floor, and a panikin of water stood on 
 a rude bench beneath the single window. 
 The latter was high up the wall, a deep, nar 
 row embrasure, safe-guarded by iron bars, 
 through which vines thrust a shadow of green 
 leaves. There was little light, yet enough to 
 reveal an overturned stool, the heavy bar 
 which had secured the door on the floor in 
 one corner, and beside it a dirty, well-worn 
 [201]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 cap. I stared at these things, and then at Gos- 
 pele, who shrank back before the anger in 
 my eyes. 
 
 " As I thought he is not here." 
 
 "But he was here, Monsieur: I swear it. 
 Deslins has been in here since I came with 
 him; that is his cap lying yonder." 
 
 [202]
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 I KICKED it with my foot. 
 "Ay! it is plain enough there was a 
 prisoner here," I said. " I am not questioning 
 that, but I want to learn who the man might 
 be. I am only sure he was not Charles d'En- 
 ville, in spite of your assertion. Do you know 
 the chevalier? " 
 
 " I have seen him often." 
 
 " And still swear it was no other? What if 
 I tell you I know d'Enville to be dead? " 
 
 " He may be now, Monsieur, but he 
 was not two hours ago, when I spoke 
 with him." 
 
 The fellow said this with such earnestness 
 as to almost convince me. I hoped it was 
 true, and yet was unable to conceive its pos 
 sibility. Could it be possible that some other 
 officer of equal rank might have fallen into 
 the hands of these men, bearing sufficient 
 resemblance to the one they sought to deceive 
 [203]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 even Gospele who had seen him before? The 
 dwarf had, in all probability, but merely 
 viewed him at a distance, and thus gained 
 only a vague impression of the real appear 
 ance of the man. Wishing to believe him 
 d'Enville even a slight resemblance might 
 have proven sufficient to convince, and it 
 was not at all likely that any of the others 
 in this crew of outlaws would know the dif 
 ference. If Gospele named him as the che 
 valier, no one among them would question 
 the identification. But, whoever he was, 
 what had become of the man? Had he es 
 caped? or been foully murdered? That was 
 Deslins' cap on the floor, and Deslins him 
 self was lying dead in the big hall without 
 clothed in the prisoner's uniform. The jailer 
 had been killed by a blow struck from behind, 
 but if the officer had dealt this in a desperate 
 effort at escape, how did the dead man become 
 possessed of the uniform he wore? Where 
 was the prisoner hiding? and what had hap 
 pened to Gassier? These unanswerable ques 
 tions poured in upon me, the situation 
 [204]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 becoming more complicated the longer I 
 thought. 
 
 There was no solving the mystery standing 
 there. I must leave it to unravel itself, find 
 Mademoiselle, and do the best I could to save 
 her. That was my duty now. Ay! and the 
 work must be done quickly, for already it was 
 growing dusk in the corridors, and a glance 
 at the high window told me the sun was low 
 in the west. I would trust Gospele no longer, 
 be no longer bothered by guarding the fellow. 
 He had told me where the girl was, and I 
 could find her alone. If he had lied I would 
 come back, and wring the truth out of him. 
 Now I would be better off rid of his company, 
 and free to act without keeping grip on his 
 collar. I flung him from me onto the floor, 
 and picked up the oak bar. 
 
 " You will wait here, Master Gospele," I 
 said sternly, " until I have some further need 
 of you. 'T is not likely you will starve, or 
 suffer greatly, before some of your friends 
 come, even if I should not return. But if you 
 have lied to me, I shall have a debt to 
 [205]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 pay, and you will see me soon enough, I 
 
 warrant." 
 
 He grovelled on the floor, making no at 
 tempt to rise, but his eyes stealthily watching 
 my movements. 
 
 " You leave me locked in here, Monsieur, 
 while you seek the lady? " 
 
 " Yes ; you have told me where she is con 
 fined, and if I find her there all right, you 
 have won your life; but if not " I stopped 
 significantly. 
 
 " She was there two hours ago," he broke 
 in swiftly. " But I cannot tell now. So was 
 the chevalier here, Monsieur, but now he is 
 gone. I can only tell you what I know, what 
 I believe. It may be he has found, and re 
 leased his sister." 
 
 " That is something I shall soon discover. 
 You said the tower up the stairs at the end 
 of this corridor? Is that the place? " 
 
 He was too much frightened, reading the 
 fierce threat in my face to answer, but there 
 was a look in his eyes which somehow con 
 vinced me that what he had said already was 
 [206]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 true. I stepped backward, clinging to the 
 heavy bar, and closed the door, behind me. 
 The wood fitted tightly into the rude iron 
 sockets, and I paused an instant in the gloom 
 of the corridor listening. There was no sound 
 either from within or without. The vast pile 
 seemed as deserted, and desolate, as it had been 
 through the centuries. If aught ever moved 
 in these silent halls it must be the ghosts of 
 the dead, stirred by memories of the past. I 
 could almost imagine they were there, all 
 about me, lurking in the shadows. Yet I 
 knew better; knew that what I really had to 
 fear were heartless and cruel men, whose very 
 whereabouts I could not guess, but whom I 
 must avoid by all the wit and skill I possessed. 
 I was struggling in the midst of cross cur 
 rents of human passion, striving to find my 
 way blindly through them in the dark. The 
 end was with God, and I could only do my 
 best, and trust in Him. 
 
 Discovery now meant death to me, and 
 worse than death to Camille d'Enville. And 
 time was flying; perhaps even now the guard 
 [207]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 below, careless as they apparently were, were 
 beginning to wonder at the delay of Deslins' 
 return. 'Twas not likely any of the fellows 
 cared to explore these black corridors at 
 night, and, if they sent a searching party, it 
 would be while some shred of daylight lin 
 gered in the west. A half hour later and the 
 cowards would scarcely dare enter the haunted 
 halls for any purpose. Then we might be 
 safe enough, but I could not wait for that 
 I must find the lady, and learn her condition, 
 while there remained sufficient light to guide 
 my way. Nothing could be seen or heard to 
 deter me, and I advanced up the passage, my 
 heart beating fiercely in the terror of imagi 
 nation, yet firmly determined on my course. 
 
 The foot of the stairs were easily found at 
 the extremity of the corridor. They were 
 scarcely two feet wide, and seemed to me to 
 be hollowed out of the very wall, and as solid 
 as the stones themselves. No gleam of light 
 illumined them, and they rose so steeply that 
 it was like climbing a ladder, but the very fact 
 that they were so easily found heartened me 
 [208]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 to the attempt. Thus far, at least, the dwarf's 
 tale was true, and my faith became sensibly 
 stronger. No better place of concealment 
 surely could be found, even in the midst of 
 that ruin. 
 
 Hampered by my sword I left it lying be 
 low, and mounted the steps on hands and 
 knees noiselessly. I was compelled to feel rny 
 way in the intense darkness, and was only 
 aware I had attained the top when a grop 
 ing hand suddenly came in contact with 
 an oaken scuttle which barred further pas 
 sage. It required some minutes of investi 
 gation to determine the exact nature of this 
 barrier, but finally I found by feeling, that 
 it was held firmly into place by two bolts of 
 heavy oak sliding into clefts of the rock. I 
 listened with ear against the wood, but no 
 sound reached me from above, and, deter 
 mined to learn the mystery of the place, I 
 slipped the bolts back, holding the wood 
 firm with my other hand. It gave silently, 
 supported by hinges, and thus hung dangling, 
 leaving a clear opening. Yet I could perceive 
 [209]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 nothing in the vacancy above. There was a 
 dim light, or rather the darkness overhead was 
 less pronounced, but the difference was not 
 sufficient to enable me to distinguish objects 
 from where I stood staring upward. I ven 
 tured a step higher, my head barely project 
 ing through the narrow opening. Instantly 
 a voice spoke. 
 
 " Go back! or I strike you with the stool 
 go!" 
 
 My heart leaped in swift exultation. It was 
 Mademoiselle! ay! and alone; ready to defend 
 herself. Instinctively I flung up my hand in 
 guard, knowing her words to be no idle threat. 
 
 " Do not strike, Mademoiselle!" I cried 
 hastily, " it is a friend who comes." 
 
 " A friend ! What friend have I here? " 
 
 "The man who served you last night 
 Arthur Shea " I answered, not yet daring to 
 move. 
 
 I caught the echo of her sudden breath of 
 relief, and heard the uplifted stool touch the 
 floor. 
 
 "Of the Irish Brigade! Can it indeed be 
 
 [210]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 you? Oh! Mon Dieul I am so glad, Mon 
 sieur so glad! Give me your hand." 
 
 Helped by the warm grasp of her fingers 
 I stood erect on the floor, aware of her pres 
 ence, yet unable even then to clearly distin 
 guish the outlines of her figure. If there 
 were windows to the tower they were so over 
 grown with vines as to be useless. While 
 darkness was not absolute, as on the stairs be 
 low, yet it was impossible for me to make out 
 the surroundings, or realize anything except 
 the mere fact of her presence. 
 
 " You are alone? " I asked to assure myself. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, I am now," and I could 
 distinguish a tremor to her voice, and feel the 
 tighter grip of her hand. " But he was here 
 an hour ago. I I thought he was coming 
 back he he swore he would come when 
 the darkness had terrified me. I was terribly 
 afraid but it was not of the dark." 
 
 " He? Whom do you mean? " 
 
 " Do you not know, Monsieur? Do you 
 not know who is here? who is the head of these 
 bandits? "
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 11 You mean the villain La Porte? " 
 
 " That is what they call him yes. But 
 did you ever meet anyone who really knew 
 who that arch fiend was? We spoke the name 
 often enough in Paris, imagining the man 
 some crazed peasant, a wild monster. Then 
 his was but a name of terror to be spoken in 
 whispers, the name of a being too horrible to 
 be even human. We dreamed not who he 
 really was. Did you in the camps ever hear 
 of anyone who had seen him?" 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle. 'T is said he takes 
 no part in the raids, and horrors perpetrated 
 under his name that he merely plans, and 
 that even his lieutenants never look upon his 
 face unmasked. This is what makes it so hard 
 to wipe out his gang of desperadoes their 
 leader is unknown. And do you mean to say 
 you have seen the fellow? that you recognized 
 him?" 
 
 She breathed hard, holding my hand 
 clasped closely in both her own, the words 
 she would speak trembling on her lips. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," she whispered, as though 
 [212]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 fearful of the very shadows. "He is here; 
 he has talked with me unmasked; he has 
 threatened me. He came first in disguise, 
 thinking I would not know who he was, but 
 from the very first word he spoke I knew 
 him. Then when he laid hands on me, after 
 I laughed at his threatening, I tore the mask 
 from his face in struggle to break free. Mon 
 Dieu! he was angry, and I think will kill 
 me if I do not do as he wishes. I had to lie 
 to him, to pretend, 'ere he would leave me 
 at all." 
 
 " But you have not told me who is the 
 man? Do I know him? " 
 
 " The king's friend, the Duke de Saule. 
 I accused him of being that fiend in human 
 form, and at first he only laughed. Then 
 he boasted of it, and of his power. Told me 
 how helpless I was to resist him how his 
 men would do whatever he said, even to mur 
 der. This man is a brute, a fiend incarnate 
 the courtier in him is veneer; his smile 
 treason." 
 
 " I doubt it not," I said soberly. " I was 
 [213]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 ready to believe, for I met his man, the hid 
 eous dwarf, Gospele, below, and made him 
 tell me where you were. No doubt he thought 
 I would meet his master here,' or some of his 
 villains, guarding the stair. Yet by good luck 
 the way was clear of the vermin and we came 
 unhindered." 
 
 "And the dwarf he has gone to tell?" 
 "Not he! I took no such chance as that. 
 The imp is shut up tight enough to be safe, 
 in a cell below. The fellow told me no more 
 than he had 19, even under threat. He denied 
 that de Saule was here." 
 
 " You questioned him about his master? " 
 "Ay! because I connected him with you 
 at once. There were tales about you both 
 floating around Paris. 'T was said the man 
 desired to marry you, and had the aid of the 
 king, but that you flouted them both, and 
 was banished from court for your sin. So, 
 when you disappeared so strangely, and I 
 found you here a prisoner, with Gospele en 
 joying liberty, I could not help but remember 
 these tales of idleness, and connect de Saule 
 [214]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 with your misfortune. The dwarf swore he 
 was also a captive to the outlaws, but he was 
 too free to come and go at will to bear out the 
 story. And what is the duke's purpose in this 
 outrage? " 
 
 ( To compel me to marry him. He has dis 
 covered force to be the only means by which 
 he can hope to attain that end. He told me 
 laughingly, as if it were a good joke, the 
 whole plot. I was a victim of his plans be 
 fore I even left Paris. It was arranged that 
 I should overhear the discussion about the 
 dispatch, and the difficulty of getting it safely 
 to Louis. They counted on my daring, and 
 loyalty, and the duke even boasts that the king 
 agreed to the plan. There was no dispatch; 
 only a blank sheet of paper, enclosed in an 
 envelope, stamped with the official seal of 
 France. All they wished was to get me alone 
 away from Paris, here into St. Quentin, where 
 I would be helpless, and without friends. The 
 very guide they sent with me was in de Saule's 
 pay, with instructions where to be at a cer 
 tain hour. It was the unexpected coming of 
 [215]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 that English scouting party which disarranged 
 the plot. 
 
 " De Saule's party was not large enough to 
 attack them, and could only skulk about in 
 the dark, seeking some chance to lay hand on 
 me. Then fortune favored them. They were 
 hiding in the very hut beside which you left 
 me. I was endeavoring to watch you in your 
 efforts to secure a horse, and heard nothing. 
 The first I knew I was seized roughly, and a 
 cloth flung over my face. I could not scream, 
 or make the slightest outcry. 
 
 " They dragged me with them there were 
 five in the party and they must have had 
 a horse, for I was lifted to the back of an 
 animal, and bound there with ropes. The 
 cloth was removed from over my face, but 
 the night was too dark for me to see much, or 
 distinguish except to slight degree the appear 
 ance of my captors. 
 
 " Only one addressed me, and then only to 
 threaten me if I made an outcry. He ap 
 peared to be a very large man, with a beard, 
 and was evidently in command. The fellow 
 [216]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 who led the horse was a negro, as I could tell 
 by his voice. 
 
 " We came through a thick wood, and then 
 along a narrow road where the men marched 
 in single file. It was all desolate and dreary; 
 I had no knowledge of where I was. At last, 
 and while it was still dark, we arrived at this 
 old castle they call it Roisel, Monsieur 
 and they kept me down below until daybreak, 
 because they were all afraid of ghosts, and 
 none would venture up the dark stairs. Then 
 the big man, and another named Deslins, who 
 later brought me food, led me up here, and 
 locked me in. Not until I saw the dwarf, 
 Gospele, did I ever dream of why I had been 
 captured. I thought only it might be for ran 
 som. Then I suspected de Saule might be 
 behind it all." 
 
 " And he was! he came himself! " 
 " Two hours ago. He said he left Paris yes 
 terday. I will not repeat what he said to me, 
 Monsieur, but he protested love, and pledged 
 me instant release if I would marry him. I 
 did not promise, yet what could I do? I 
 [217]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 must learn all, and so I spoke to him fair 
 words, which saved me from anger, and won 
 me some knowledge. I am sure he told me 
 more than he meant to tell, but he thought 
 I would admire him if he boasted of what he 
 had done, and could do. The man was ever 
 a braggart, and a coward at heart." 
 
 " Did he tell you he held your brother 
 prisoner also? " 
 
 " Yes, but I knew that was not true, al 
 though I did not tell him. Where did you 
 hear, Monsieur from Gospele?" 
 
 " It was part of his tale, and I actually think 
 the fellow believed it true. He guided me 
 to the room where the man had been con 
 fined, but the prisoner had in some way es 
 caped. The jailer, Deslins, is killed ; we found 
 his body." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, in which I 
 could distinguish her breathing. She stood 
 motionless, her hand withdrawn from my 
 grasp. 
 
 "Who who could it be, Monsieur?" 
 she asked at last. " Surely not Charles, and 
 [218]
 
 WITH MADEMOISELLE 
 
 yet both Gospele and de Saule know him 
 well." 
 
 " I cannot deem it possible," I replied re 
 gretfully. " Believe me, Mademoiselle, I do 
 not know that your brother is dead. We 
 fought, and my sword penetrated his guard 
 and he fell. The next instant the officers of 
 my regiment had pushed me from the room, 
 and bade me ride for my life. This is all I 
 know. It may indeed be that the capture of 
 d'Enville was also a part of the plot, yet 
 it is scarcely believable that even if he was 
 merely wounded by my thrust, he would be 
 in condition to be here. It is rather my judg 
 ment that these fellows have by some devil's 
 luck made prisoner of a man resembling the 
 chevalier of the same rank and have 
 taken it for granted it is he. Gospele has 
 seen your brother, but perhaps only at a dis 
 tance, and it is quite probable that de Saule 
 has not yet visited the captive. He came to 
 you first, as soon as he arrived." 
 
 I caught the sound of a half suppressed sob, 
 and her hand grasped my sleeve. 
 [219]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " Ohl I hope that is true, Monsieur; I hope 
 he is not here in the power of these cruel men, 
 and I pray to the Virgin that he be alive. I 
 I cannot bear to think that that you 
 killed him." 
 
 " You care then? and for my sake? " 
 
 " How could I help it, Monsieur? You 
 have been my friend ; you are here now, peril 
 ing your life to kid me. I am grateful ; more, 
 I am a woman, and I care as a woman must 
 I cannot bear to think that Charles d'Enville 
 died from your hand. I will not think it 
 hush! what was that?" 
 
 It was some movement below us on the dark 
 stair. 
 
 [220]
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 I KNEW instantly that some intruder was 
 cautiously feeling a passage up those black 
 steps, yet it was the quick wit of the woman 
 which caused her to speak first, her fingers 
 still gripping my arm in terror. 
 
 " It is de Saule, Monsieur. Move back 
 here! He may think I have already escaped 
 when he finds the scuttle open." 
 
 The chance was indeed a desperate one, but 
 there was no time in which to devise a better. 
 I could only yield to the pressure of her hand, 
 hidden in the gloom, and listening for every 
 sound which indicated the man's approach. 
 He came slowly, as though uncertain of his 
 way, yet the slight noise of his progress indi 
 cated that he had already attained the open 
 ing. That the fellow uttered no exclamation 
 upon discovering the unfastened scuttle was 
 a surprise. Could it be de Saule? Surely he 
 would never have taken the matter so quietly. 
 
 [221]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 Yet if not the duke, who could this prowler 
 be? I thought of Gassier, of the escaped pris 
 oner of the lower corridor. But I had scarce 
 time in which to think at all, as the man barely 
 paused for an instant before he climbed to the 
 floor level, and stood erect peering about him 
 through the gloom, as though doubtful of his 
 surroundings. I could hear his quick, half 
 suppressed breathing. Then he started for 
 ward, apparently feeling his way along the 
 wall, slowly and cautiously, as though fearful 
 of encountering some pitfall. It occurred to 
 me the man was seeking to discover some 
 opening which would lead to the roof, and 
 his actions convinced me he could not be 
 de Saule. Yet this did not prove him a 
 friend. 
 
 The man was more likely to be one of the 
 gang below on some exploration for himself, 
 bold enough in his search for loot, or what 
 else, to even venture amid these haunted ruins. 
 Whoever he was I could take no chances, for 
 it was not my life alone which hung in the 
 balance. So I remained silent, and motion- 
 
 [222]
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 less, waiting results, but ready enough to take 
 hold if occasion warranted. 
 
 He must have found nothing but solid wall, 
 for step by step he circled the tower, blindly 
 groping his way, until he was within arm's 
 length of us. I was between him and Made 
 moiselle, and took one step forward to have 
 clear space for a struggle which was now 
 inevitable. Then his fingers touched me, and 
 he uttered a muffled exclamation in French, 
 stifled by the grip of my hand on his throat. 
 Yet even as I pressed him against the wall, 
 struggling madly in his first alarm to break 
 free, I became convinced of who he was. 
 
 " Gassier? " 
 
 " Ay! " he sputtered, as my fingers relaxed. 
 " Let go of me. Saint Denis! you have the 
 clutch of a wild beast. Are you the Irish 
 man?" 
 
 " Yes, how came you here? What may be 
 the purpose of all this? I left you at the stair 
 head to keep guard, but found you not when 
 I returned. Did you then desert me like a 
 coward?" 
 
 f 223 ]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " Not I," growling out the words in sud 
 den anger at my tone. " But it was not my 
 thought that you wished me to be seen, and 
 there were others prowling through these 
 ruins. I feared as much, and so hid within an 
 alcove where I could see and not be seen. I 
 knew the dead man had not killed himself. It 
 was well I did hide, for you had not gone ten 
 minutes, when a man slipped out of a side 
 room, and stole silently to the top of the stairs. 
 I could not see well, but he was roughly 
 dressed, and seemed to be trying to escape un 
 seen. I believed him to be the murderer, one 
 of the outlaws who had thus paid off a per 
 sonal grudge, and thought of nothing then bat 
 how to get safely away before his crime was 
 discovered. 
 
 " I could only crouch in the corner and 
 watch. But the fellow appeared to be afraid 
 to venture down the steps, and he waited too 
 long. Suddenly there was the sound of steps 
 in the corridor, as though someone approached 
 making no attempt at concealment. The fug 
 itive must have heard them first, for he faced 
 [224]
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 about, and then sprang back into the shelter 
 of the same alcove which protected me. We 
 came face to face, the mutual astonishment 
 and surprise so great we remained motionless, 
 staring into each other's eyes in startled rec 
 ognition. Neither dared move a foot, or ut 
 ter a word, yet neither was wholly sure of the 
 other. The face confronting me, roughened 
 by exposure, and a sprouting beard, bore 
 strange resemblance to the Chevalier d'En- 
 ville. Yet, in view of what you had told me, 
 I could not believe the testimony of my own 
 eyes. But seemingly he knew me also, and 
 gave a swift signal for silence. Thus we stood 
 while the man outside drew nearer, his foot 
 steps sounding loud in the stillness. But, 
 Monsieur, you are not alone!" 
 
 "Tig Mademoiselle d'Enville," I said 
 shortly. " You need not fear her," and added : 
 "This is the man I released from imprison 
 ment Captain Gassier, of the Regiment of 
 Touraine." 
 
 " And you thought the stranger might be 
 my brother, Monsieur?" she questioned 
 [225]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISPI BRIGADE 
 
 eagerly, stepping in front of me as though 
 seeking to see his face through the gloom. 
 
 " There was a resemblance," he replied re 
 luctantly, unaware of what she might know 
 regarding our quarrel. " I could not tell with 
 certainty the light was bad." 
 
 "You knew Charles d'Enville?" 
 
 " I have seen him often, Mademoiselle, but 
 always in uniform, and at his best." 
 
 " Let us not waste time," I broke in hastily. 
 " There is nothing to hide from the lady, Cap 
 tain Gassier. I have told her all that occurred 
 in the camp, and why I am a fugitive. Was 
 the man the Chevalier d'Enville?" 
 
 " As God is my witness I do not know. How 
 could he be if you killed him, Monsieur? All 
 I can say is that he looked like him, so much as 
 to startle me, but he was roughly dressed, and 
 unbarbered " 
 
 " Were his clothes those of the jailer, think 
 you?" 
 
 " Likely enough, although I never saw the 
 man you mean, for it was a negro who waited 
 on me. Could I have talked with him I would 
 [226]
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 have learned who he was but all I really 
 know is that he was seeking escape, and that 
 he resembled d'Enville." 
 
 " You exchanged no word? " 
 
 " No more than a whisper imploring si 
 lence. We both realized we were hiding from 
 discovery, and must help each other. There 
 was no opportunity to speak; we could only 
 stare into each other's faces, and listen, fairly 
 holding our breaths. I could not even see 
 what was occurring in the corridor from 
 where I stood, yet the sound of the newcom 
 er's steps told me he was within a few feet 
 of where we hid. He came to the stair-head, 
 and called a name." 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 " Gospele, or Gos something; I could 
 not tell clearly, but the other man drew a 
 deep breath, and his lips set, as though the 
 sound stung his ears. Do you know such a 
 name, Monsieur? " 
 
 "Ay! we both know it, and can guess the 
 speaker. But go on. We must know what 
 happened to you two." 
 
 [227]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " 'T was all soon over with. There was no 
 reply, and he called again, his voice heavier 
 with anger. Yet no one answered ; and I think 
 the man walked across the corridor into the 
 great hall. He was gone scarce a moment, 
 not long enough for us to venture to slip away, 
 and then came back, and bawled down the 
 stairs to some guards below, bidding them 
 come up, for there was a dead body on the 
 floor. Instantly a half dozen men swarmed 
 up the steps. We could hear their voices, and 
 the crunch of their heavy boots. The man 
 above swore as he gave his orders, bidding 
 two of them pick up the dead man, and the 
 others search after the murderer. He seemed 
 to be afraid ; I heard him call : * Move quick 
 now while there is light, you rascals! It is 
 Deslins who has been killed. Mon Dieu! 
 there is treachery here, and you will answer 
 to me if you do n't find the murderer! Search 
 every black corner, and bring the villain here, 
 dead or alive I Stop; have any of you seen 
 the dwarf?' A deep voice answered, 'No, 
 Monsieur, he has not come down.' The other 
 [228!
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 swore again * Where then is the fellow? 
 Do n't stand there : do as I order you 1 ' There 
 was no time for us to think or plan. We knew 
 that without a word. In another moment they 
 would have us helplessly trapped. Nor was 
 there a way of escape, except through the 
 door of the alcove. I hesitated, but the other 
 man gripped the chance desperately. I felt 
 his hands on my shoulder, his lips at my ear. 
 1 We must go through them,' he said. ' Come 
 on I ' I leaped after him, Monsieur, but there 
 was little for me to do save run for my life. 
 Never have I seen such a thunderbolt. He 
 was like a crazed man, and they were so sur 
 prised that they ran as from a ghost. One he 
 struck, and another he flung bodily down the 
 stairs, and then I saw him land with his fist 
 straight into the face of the better dressed man 
 among them, and over he went, like an ox 
 floored by a butcher. There was only one fel 
 low between me and the dark corridor, and I 
 gave him the prick of my knife, jumped 
 across him and ran! 'Twas nothing to me 
 what became of the other. He must look after 
 [229]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 himself. My hope was that in the excitement 
 the cowards might not know there were two of 
 us, if I could only get quickly out of sight. 
 So I ran, leaving them striking and cursing 
 behind me." 
 
 " You deserted a comrade! " burst in Made 
 moiselle indignantly. "And boast of it!" 
 
 "That fellow! Faith, he was no comrade 
 of mine. One of the brood himself, no doubt. 
 I cared nothing for his skin. Neither of us 
 had interest save to get away, and I took the 
 chance, and won." 
 
 " You escaped then unhurt? " 
 
 " Only for a bruise when I struck against 
 a projection of wall in the dark." 
 
 "And the other man?" 
 
 " I know nothing of what may have hap 
 pened to him," and his voice sounded ag 
 grieved, as though he could not comprehend 
 why she should question so persistently. " Be 
 cause he chanced to resemble your brother, 
 Mademoiselle, meant nothing to me, for I 
 knew he was not here. So I ran the best I 
 could. It was dark in the corridor, and no one 
 [ 230 ]
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 followed me, but I had no knowledge where 
 the passage led, and turned into the first open 
 ing which offered shelter. It was a large 
 room, with not even a window in the wall, 
 and I crouched down behind a stone bench 
 and waited. They were still fighting outside, 
 although the noise reaching me was faint. I 
 could hear voices, blows, and the shuffling of 
 feet, but this did not last long. I do not know 
 what the end was, but a little later I heard the 
 voice of the man who seemed in command of 
 the ruffians, telling some among them to search 
 the big banquet room for the fellow whose 
 name he called at first, and ordering others to 
 carry the body of the dead man downstairs." 
 "He was killed then?" 
 c I did not know which he meant, Made 
 moiselle. " It might have been Deslins. All 
 I could determine clearly was that the fellows 
 would not go. It was growing dark, and they 
 were afraid. They spoke ugly about it, and, 
 finally, they all went down the stairs, cursing 
 like a lot of pirates. I could n't make out just 
 what the trouble was." 
 
 [231 ]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " It is plain enough to me," I said, as he 
 paused as if his story was done. " They think 
 this old pile is haunted, and not one of the 
 foul brood would venture up here alone at 
 night. Not even de Saule could bribe them 
 to it, and I doubt his own nerve for such a 
 trip." 
 
 " De Saule! the king's favorite?" 
 " Ay, man ! It was de Saule beyond a doubt. 
 He is either at the head of these villains, which 
 I begin to believe, or is so connected with their 
 operations as to use them freely on occasion. 
 He has been here, in this tower, talking to, 
 and threatening Mademoiselle. He would 
 compel her to marry him, and she was cap 
 tured, and brought here, according to his plan. 
 It is all a foul plot, into which you and I have 
 drifted by accident. I know not whether the 
 third man be d'Enville God knows I hope 
 it prove so, for I want not the stain of his blood 
 
 on me." 
 
 "But you said you killed him?" he ex 
 claimed, and I felt the clasp of her hands on 
 my sleeve. 
 
 [232]
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 " I fled thinking so, yet it might not have 
 been a mortal wound. One knows little where 
 a sword thrust goes in heat of battle. How 
 ever this is no time to discuss the affair. The 
 man was de Saule, and it was the dwarf Gos- 
 pele for whom he called, an imp of darkness 
 well fitted for his purpose. The outlaws have 
 departed then? " 
 
 " Not far, Monsieur. I waited until it was 
 dark and all was still before I crept out again, 
 and then stole along the corridor to the head 
 of the stairs. They were there in the great 
 hall below, a dozen, or more, of the fellows. 
 They had lights, and were on guard. There 
 was a sentry at the foot of the steps, staring 
 up into the darkness above, as though he ex 
 pected a ghost to descend, and another at the 
 other side. Some of the villains had blankets, 
 and were lying on the stone floor. Faith ! they 
 had me blocked a mouse could not get 
 through unseen." 
 
 " And de Saule was he with them? " 
 
 " I saw nothing of the man, although there 
 was a fellow off in a corner by himself with 
 [233]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 his head tied up, as though nursing a wound. 
 The man who walked about, and seemed to 
 give orders, was a giant with a scraggy beard, 
 and who swore like a fiend." 
 
 I understood the situation clearly enough 
 now, and it was sufficiently desperate to call 
 for all my wit if I would solve it. The trap 
 was set, and there seemed no way out. So far 
 as I knew those stairs alone led to the entrance, 
 and the open air. There was no other way 
 of escape. That this was true was now con 
 firmed by the action of the men seeking to 
 capture us. Afraid to explore the upper gal 
 leries in the night, they felt perfectly safe so 
 long as they guarded the stairway, knowing 
 that whoever might be above could find no 
 other passage. Probably they had no concep 
 tion of the real situation. As I thought of it 
 all I came finally to this conclusion: the man 
 who might be the chevalier, must have suc 
 ceeded in breaking away from his antagonists, 
 and had fled somewhere into the dark pas 
 sage. That was why de Saule had endeavored 
 to make his men search the big room. The 
 [234]
 
 WE FACE THE SITUATION 
 
 fugitive had gone that way. And the fellows 
 refused to follow in the dark. It was there 
 fore in hope of capturing him the guard was 
 set below. He was the only one of whose 
 presence they were aware. Yet the killing of 
 Deslins, the mysterious disappearance of Cos- 
 pele, and the reckless fight the man made to 
 escape capture, would convince them of his 
 desperate character. 
 
 They knew nothing of my being in the cas 
 tle thanks to some rare good fortune nor 
 of the release of Gassier. They might not 
 even be aware that two men had attacked the 
 party at the head of the stairs. It was all the 
 riot of an instant, and in such fighting one 
 scarcely knows what has occurred. No, it was 
 the stranger they were after, and they were 
 convinced there was no other way by which 
 he could get out. They could simply wait 
 there until he walked into their trap. He 
 could do that, or kill himself, just as he 
 pleased. Either choice was satisfactory to 
 those fellows the end the same. 
 
 And how much better off were we situated? 
 [235]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 There were three of us, for the lady was of 
 fighting race and would bear her part, and 
 we would possess the advantage of surprise. 
 For arms we had a pistol, a knife, and my 
 sword lying at the foot of the tower stairs. 
 Mademoiselle's weapon had been taken from 
 her. If we could manage to unite with the 
 strange man hiding somewhere amid these 
 branching corridors, we could show a battling 
 strength not to be despised. We might, at 
 least, defend ourselves from attack, although 
 it would be a desperate deed to attempt forc 
 ing passage through that guard of ruffians be 
 low. Yet, from all appearance, we possessed 
 the night in which to explore, and perfect 
 some plan. 
 
 There was hope that some other way 
 out might be revealed, even although un 
 known to our besiegers. Surely in those 
 days of treachery and intrigue when this cas 
 tle was built some secret passage must have 
 been constructed some means of escape pro 
 vided other than that main staircase. We 
 must seek blindly in the dark, but the thought 
 [236]
 
 brought with it a faint glimmer of hope. At 
 least I knew where a stairway led to the roof. 
 These reflections flashed across my mind, and 
 even as I reached a decision the hand of the 
 girl tightened its grasp on my sleeve. 
 
 " What are we to do, Monsieur? " she asked, 
 her voice trembling, yet with a confidence in 
 me that somehow strengthened my own heart. 
 11 Where are we to go? " 
 
 [2371
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 CLASPING the hand on my arm, I held 
 it tightly, my veins throbbing in swift 
 response to her confident appeal. She trusted 
 me, and somehow, God helping me, I meant 
 to prove worthy. I felt already a difference 
 in the attitude of the girl, as though the doubt 
 of her brother's death at my hands had re 
 moved a barrier between us. If the strange 
 man hiding in the ruins was indeed Charles 
 d'Enville it was worth all possible effort to 
 discover the fact. How strongly I wished this 
 might prove true came to me in sudden reve 
 lation, almost choking back the words I 
 sought to utter coolly. 
 
 " I have not yet thought it all out, Made 
 moiselle," I replied, with all the assurance 
 I could muster. " But first I would view the 
 situation with my own eyes. Then perhaps 
 we can plan some way to overcome the vil 
 lains. I am not one to yield without trying. 
 [238]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 Come, Gassier, we will go below, and find 
 out what can be done. You have a weapon? " 
 
 " Yes, but only the one load." 
 
 He appeared reluctant to proceed, yet fol 
 lowed as I slowly descended the steps and 
 helped the lady to find safe footing. At the 
 foot I recovered my sword, and buckled the 
 belt about my waist; then, holding tightly to 
 her, stole stealthily along the dark passage 
 way, the gloom so dense no object could be 
 discerned. However there was nothing to 
 fear, unless we might accidentally come across 
 the escaped prisoner, and get to hand grips 
 before an explanation could be made. Such 
 a possibility did not deter me, for this was 
 the corridor down which Gassier had run, and 
 the other man had probably disappeared in 
 the opposite direction, if he also had really 
 succeeded in breaking away from his oppo 
 nents. As to those fellows below it was plain 
 they had no intention of venturing up stairs 
 again until the return of daylight. They were 
 more afraid of ghosts, and the phantoms of 
 their imaginations, than of any human enemy. 
 [239]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 Of course de Saule might be above such super 
 stitious fear, but he was scarce reckless enough 
 to explore those black corridors alone, and 
 his chance of getting volunteers to follow his 
 lead was small. 
 
 The night air blew chill through the pas 
 sage, and the walls felt damp and cold. We 
 moved silently, feeling our way, until we came 
 to where a reflection of light from the great 
 hall below stole up the broad stone stairs, 
 and faintly revealed our surroundings. Then 
 for the first time I was enabled to perceive the 
 face of Mademoiselle, whom I held close to 
 me. Her cheeks were colorless, yet she smiled 
 bravely back into my eyes as our glances met. 
 I could not withhold an ardent expression of 
 admiration and sympathy. 
 
 " I am glad to see you keep a strong heart," 
 I whispered, unwilling Gassier should over 
 hear, " and feel confidence in me. This is a 
 hard task for a woman." 
 
 She managed to smile, but I thought her 
 eyes were misty. 
 
 " I am so hopeful he is alive, Monsieur," 
 [240]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 she answered in the same low tone, " and that 
 we shall find him." 
 
 " It is all for his sake then you keep such 
 courage? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur," reproachfully, " it is for 
 your sake also. Could I wish my brother's 
 blood to stain your hands? You have been 
 my friend, and yet this deed of anger lies 
 between us. You will understand." 
 
 " Yes, I understand, and hope as you do. 
 If Charles d'Enville lives we shall know to 
 night. I pray it may be so for your sake, as 
 well as mine. I would not have his death 
 upon my soul, and and besides " 
 
 I hesitated, surprised at the words trem 
 bling on my lips. 
 
 " And what, Monsieur? " 
 
 " I hardly know; I dare not say," I blurted 
 out. " Only I care so much because of you, 
 because of our friendship. It would ever be a 
 barrier between us." 
 
 I felt her hand touch mine gently. 
 
 " Yet I do not blame, Monsieur," she said 
 softly. " I believe what you have told me. 
 [241] '
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 It was a fair crossing of swords, and had 
 Charles not fallen, he would have struck you 
 down." 
 
 " It was a quarrel of hot-heads, and whether 
 I was justified or not, it would be impossible 
 for his sister to forgive and forget." 
 
 " I could forgive, Monsieur, for I know sol 
 diers, and how easily they draw sword. I am 
 not a girl unacquainted with life. I believe 
 you did only as any high spirited man would 
 do." 
 
 "You mean you trust me?" 
 
 " Implicitly, Monsieur; you may hold me 
 your friend." 
 
 " Whether Charles d'Enville be dead or 
 alive? " 
 
 " Yes," her eyes falling before mine. " I 
 do not say I can forget, or wholly blot out 
 the memory. That would be asking too much, 
 would it not? But I am not vindictive, or 
 revengeful; I know his temper, and doubt not 
 he was more to blame than you for the quarrel. 
 So I am going to trust you, Monsieur." 
 
 "And like me?" 
 
 [242]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 ' That has never been hard," the words 
 came swiftly enough, but with an instant of 
 hesitation. " Perhaps that is why I can for 
 give so easily. Do not question me any more, 
 Monsieur. Is it not enough that I confess this? 
 that I give you my my confidence? We 
 are in peril, in great danger still." 
 
 " I know, yet it is those very words you 
 have spoken which give me courage to face 
 whatever may come. I will think clearer, and 
 fight better, because of your faith. You give 
 me heart and hope, Mademoiselle." I bent, 
 and touched my lips to her hand. " This old 
 castle, if history be true, witnessed courage 
 and devotion before, even to death; and to 
 night it shall know that the same spirit sur 
 vives. Somehow we shall thwart those 
 villains. But let us move forward and gain 
 glimpse down the stairs." 
 
 There were torches below and lanterns, but 
 the greater light came from a fire, kindled in 
 a slight depression of the stone floor. A pile 
 of fagots lay near by, and as I attained a posi 
 tion where I could see clearly what was trans- 
 [243]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 piring below, two men came forward from 
 the direction of the main entrance loaded with 
 more of the fuel, which they flung noisily 
 down. This alone was sufficient proof that 
 the fellows anticipated a long night's vigil, 
 and were preparing against the cold damp 
 ness of the great chamber. The red glare of 
 the leaping flames rendered the scene pecu 
 liarly fantastic and demoniac. Mademoiselle 
 pressed closely beside me as we leaned for 
 ward to look, and I heard Gassier give utter 
 ance to an oath in the excitement of his first 
 glance. The vast apartment was in spite 
 of the size of the fire illumined only in part, 
 shadows lurking along the walls. But its bare 
 ness was apparent, and its ruined condition 
 accentuated by the revealing glow of flame. I 
 counted fourteen men in the party, includ 
 ing the fagot bearers who disappeared for an 
 other load, roughly dressed fellows, many of 
 them bearded, and to all appearance peasants, 
 undisciplined, yet of good enough fighting ma 
 terial. There was no semblance of uniform, 
 or aught to indicate rank. 
 [244]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 The man who appeared to exercise com 
 mand, was, if anything, more disreputably at 
 tired than his followers, and a more desperate 
 looking villain a huge fellow, a bit round- 
 shouldered, with long gray hair uncombed, 
 and a beard reaching nearly to his waist. He 
 wore a short jerkin of leather, discolored and 
 ragged, and a belt containing two pistols and 
 a knife. The men were all armed, even as 
 they lay lounging about the fire, their equip 
 ment, however, being mostly ugly looking 
 knives, unsheathed. I could perceive few fire 
 arms, although the sentinels bore guns, and 
 there were two others leaning against the 
 lower stair. Most of the men, with pipes in 
 their mouths, were lying down, a few with 
 blankets to protect them from the hard stones. 
 Others were seated, as close to the fire as they 
 could stand the blaze, and one was indus 
 triously polishing his knife blade. There was 
 little conversation, although one of them 
 seemed to be telling a story to a group of 
 which he was the center, and the big leader 
 occasionally called out some gruff order, 
 
 [245]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 usually accompanied by an oath. That he was 
 feared, and ruled his motley crew by sheer 
 terror, was evidenced by the swiftness with 
 which the fellows obeyed. Once he struck a 
 man who failed to jump instantly at his bid 
 ding, and kicked him brutally with a booted 
 foot, but the others scarcely glanced about 
 to view the trouble, and the fellow thus mis 
 used slunk away in cowed silence. 
 
 The sentinel at the foot of the stairs never 
 removed his eyes from the darkness above, or 
 changed the posture of his gun. A moment 
 later the messenger thus roughly dispatched, 
 returned within the fire gleam, accompanied 
 by de Saule. I knew the fiend instantly 
 even without the swift warning grasp of 
 Mademoiselle on my arm although his face 
 was so wrapped in a cloth as to scarcely re 
 veal more than the eyes. Whether this was 
 worn for concealment, or to hide a wound, I 
 do not know, but the insolent, swaggering 
 gait of the fellow, and the arrogant tone of his 
 voice, were sufficient to reveal his identity. 
 He came up to the graybeard angrily and 
 [246]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 domineering, speaking in a voice plainly audi 
 ble even where we lay hugging the floor 
 above. 
 
 " What does this mean, Guieteau? That 
 rapscallion says you refuse to order a search. 
 Mon Dieuf do you forget so easily who I 
 am? Do you not know this is the king's busi 
 ness, and no mere task of robbery? Answer 
 me!" 
 
 " 'T is not that I refuse, Monsieur," re 
 plied the other, his voice strangely softened. 
 " But the men will not go. They are more 
 afraid of what they may meet with up yonder 
 than of my threats and blows." 
 
 " What! of one man, and he unarmed! " 
 
 " It is not one man, or a dozen, Monsieur. 
 The thing which frightens is not of the earth 
 spirits of the dead haunt those corridors." 
 
 De Saule laughly harshly, yet I noted his 
 glance strayed upward, and his hand clinched. 
 
 "Ghosts! Good Lord! I might believe 
 such superstition could scare those fellows, 
 but not you and I, Guieteau. We have got 
 over that long ago." 
 
 [247]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 The graybeard hesitated, twisting himself 
 about, and tugging at his knife hilt. 
 
 " I am no coward, Monsieur, as you well 
 know, and have done your will more than 
 once when there was danger. But there are 
 ghosts here I have seen them." 
 
 "Ghosts! Bah! you have seen shadows, 
 and strange lights, no doubt. Perchance some 
 rascal playing a trick, but that would be all. 
 I tell you the dead are dead, Guieteau, and 
 can do no harm to the living. What is it you 
 saw that has changed your blood to water? " 
 
 " Monsieur le Duke," returned the other 
 solemnly. " You have known me long, and 
 found me faithful is that not true? " 
 
 De Saule nodded, his glance still up the 
 stairs. " I have served you as a soldier, and 
 since then as your lieutenant here. I have 
 no fear of man, nor of death and wounds. 
 There was a time when I also laughed at phan 
 toms and sneered at ghostly presence. But 
 't is not so now. Not the king, not even you, 
 Monsieur, could make me range those pas 
 sages above in this black night. Nor will I 
 [248]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 send others to the task. This pile is haunted 
 by the spirits of the dead; I have seen them, 
 and I know." 
 
 The gravity with which the fellow spoke 
 even affected de Saule, and he stood staring 
 into the rough face, half convinced already. 
 
 "You have seen them. Bah! you dream. 
 Where? What were they like? " 
 
 " You may not believe, but I will tell you 
 what I know," and the men about the fire, 
 attracted by their voices, sat up listening, sev 
 eral of them creeping closer in eagerness to 
 hear. " We have rendezvoused here for six 
 months now, and not a night but what strange 
 lights have been seen at the windows above. 
 And we have heard noises the sound of 
 steel on steel, with laughter and shouting. 
 Sacre! it got on the nerves of the best of us, 
 for we could not make out what it was, or the 
 cause. Again and again in the daylight have 
 I searched the passages from dungeon to tow 
 ers, and found nothing. There is not a room, 
 or cell, or secret stair that I have not explored, 
 nor hole I have not peered into. Everywhere 
 [249]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 they were vacant and cold not so much as 
 a rat ran across the floor. Yet when night 
 came there were men and women here, shad 
 owy, spectral things, making merry in a 
 strange light that dazed the eyes. 
 
 " One night, Monsieur, I dared them, and 
 crept up these stairs in the dark, as far as the 
 great room where they say a king died. 
 I had given Jules and Francois here a 
 handful of gold each to go with me, and we 
 had pistols in our hands. We were at the dias, 
 staring about us through the dark, hearing and 
 seeing nothing, but with our hearts beating 
 like mad from fear, when, all at once they 
 came. They seemed to issue from the very 
 walls, shadowy and white. I saw faces, and 
 long locks of hair, and arms outstretched. 
 There was a sound like the beating of a drum. 
 Mon Dieuf I took one look, and ran. I 
 know not how we got down those stairs alive, 
 or out into the air, but Francois was all cut 
 falling on the stones, and Jules' hair has been 
 white ever since." 
 
 " Imagination ; the three of you went creep- 
 [250]
 
 THE DEATH OF GASSIER 
 
 ing up there scared half to death in the dark. 
 Did no one of you fire? " 
 
 " Ay, Francois did, and we found the next 
 day where the bullet struck the wall. God 
 save me! I threw a knife at one glistening 
 with mail, and it just went through him like 
 he was a shadow." 
 
 " Huh! to my mind that it what he was," 
 asserted de Saule, sneeringly, and staring 
 about him at the fellows' faces. " The three 
 of you filled up with liquor, no doubt, to get 
 courage enough to go at all, and then fright 
 ened each other. But I Ve heard enough of 
 this. I am a soldier, and have seen enough 
 dead men to heap this room full. It is no 
 ghost that will stop me. Come, lads, what say 
 a half dozen of you to earning a handful of 
 good gold pieces by standing at my back? 
 Speak up now! there is nothing to fear; we '11 
 carry lights with us, and that will scare the 
 spooks away. How is it with you, Guieteau? " 
 
 I know not what caused me to move, but I 
 straightened up suddenly, and by some acci 
 dent my foot struck against Gassier. No doubt 
 [251]
 
 his mind was half crazed by the visions con 
 jured up from overhearing the talk below, 
 and the silence and darkness all about us. 
 Perchance he thought the sudden pressure of 
 my foot proof of some horrid presence, for he 
 leaped upward, with a shriek that rang out 
 in the silence as though from the lips of the 
 fiend himself. I sought to grip him, but was 
 too late. He staggered on the stair ledge, 
 and then went down, his body whirling over 
 in the air, until it crashed onto the stones 
 below. 
 
 [252]
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 A THE man's body plunged down through 
 the air, his lips giving utterance to an 
 other unearthly shriek of terror, the horror of 
 it seemed to paralyze my every faculty. But 
 as his form struck the stone floor beneath, suffi 
 cient presence of mind returned to enable me 
 to clasp the shuddering girl in my arms, and 
 hold her safely out of observation from below. 
 Her face was hidden on my shoulder, but I 
 could see plainly enough, and the unspeakable 
 horror of the scene held me with its fascina 
 tion. Scarcely breathing I stared downward, 
 every nerve in my body throbbing as if from 
 physical pain. 
 
 Yet I knew the cause, realized how the 
 dreadful accident had happened. Dazed as 
 I still was from its suddenness, sick at heart 
 with horror, there was no terrorizing mystery 
 to chill my heart. Not so with those base 
 cowards below. Already terrorized by their 
 [253]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 imagination, and Guieteau's weird tale, every 
 shadow assumed ghostly shape, and the slight 
 est noise caused them to start, and look about. 
 To their ears those agonized shrieks were the 
 wails of a lost soul, and as the body whirled 
 down among them, out of that black haunted 
 void above, they fled madly, trampling each 
 other, cursing and crying out in terror. The 
 battered form struck the stones at the very 
 feet of the sentry, who flung his gun at it and 
 ran, uttering a scream that was instantly ech 
 oed, and re-echoed by his frightened compan 
 ions. Scarcely had the first cries of alarm 
 died away before the great hall below was 
 deserted to the dead body, with the exception 
 of de Saule, and his lieutenant, who, clinging 
 to each other for courage, had slunk back 
 against the wall, their eyes staring in horror 
 up the black stairs. In the glare of the fire 
 I could see their faces, white with terror, and 
 note the frenzied grip of their hands. It 
 seemed to me they would never move, never 
 dare to investigate. Yet de Saule was a hard 
 headed fellow, with little superstition to deter 
 [ 254 ]
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 him, and as the first spasm of fright passed, 
 he laughed harshly, pushing Guieteau aside 
 roughly, and taking a step forward. 
 
 " St' Anne! it is only a man's body!" he 
 roared, angry at his own terror. " 'T is the 
 fellow we sought come to his own end." 
 
 "Ay! that may be," returned the other, 
 making no attempt to move. " But what 
 drove him to take such a leap? 'Twas the 
 fiends he saw in the dark." 
 
 " Well there are none of them here to 
 frighten us only a poor devil crushed to 
 death." De Saule raised his voice. " Come 
 back here, you skulking cowards ! Now, Guie 
 teau, let 's see what the fellow looks like." 
 
 He crossed the floor boldly, although I 
 noted a pistol clasped tightly in his hand, 
 and that his eyes were watching the stairs. 
 The giant, half ashamed of his fear, started to 
 follow, but stopped in the full glare of the 
 fire, and shouted loudly for his men. He was 
 there still, cursing and commanding, when de 
 Saule reached the motionless body, and turned 
 the face up to the light. The skull was 
 [255]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 crushed, yet in spite of the disfiguring blood, 
 the dead man's features were plainly recog 
 nizable. De Saule stared into the upturned 
 face, then took a quick step backward, his 
 gaze on the black void above. His expression 
 was that of a man puzzled, and uncertain in 
 the presence of mystery. 
 
 " Mon Dleul " he exclaimed, in his first 
 surprise. "This isn't the man, Guieteau; 
 this is n't the same fellow who struck me. I 
 never saw that face before. Come over here, 
 you big coward, and tell me if you know who 
 he is. Come on! what in the name of all the 
 fiends of hell are you afraid of? Coward! 
 I '11 try this pistol on you, if you hang back 
 any longer." 
 
 The big lieutenant came forward reluc 
 tantly enough, and managed to bring his eyes 
 down to glance at the dead face. Some of the 
 scattered men were by this time beginning to 
 edge back within the radius of the fire, but 
 kept well away from the neighborhood of the 
 staircase. Guieteau's huge hand opened and 
 shut nervously, but de Saule gripped his arm. 
 [256]
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 " Well, who is he? Do you know? " 
 
 The giant let out an oath. 
 
 " Yes ; 't is the officer I told you about 
 the one we picked up near Lourches ; but how 
 came he there? " and his eyes turned upward 
 again. "Hey, you, Manuel, come here!" 
 
 A negro crept cautiously forward, trem 
 bling in every limb, yet afraid to disobey. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, I 'se here; what you want 
 o' me? I do n't know no ghost." 
 
 " There is none here if you did," broke 
 in de Saule harshly. " We want to know 
 who this dead man is. Do you recognize 
 him?" 
 
 The negro ventured a look, and flung up 
 his hands. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur," his teeth chattering so 
 the words were hardly distinguishable by us 
 as we intently listened. " He 's the man I 
 tended to in the south wing. He he said 
 his name was Gassier." 
 
 " When did you see him last? " 
 
 " Long this mornin ' when I took him some 
 thing to eat" 
 
 [257]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " He was confined in the south wing? on 
 this floor? You left him locked in securely? " 
 
 " I sure did, Monsieur; I' se awful careful 
 'bout that. I members distinctly poundin' 
 down the bar." 
 
 De Saule looked at Guieteau, and then 
 about at those others skulking by the fire. His 
 jaw was set, and there was an angry gleam in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Now see here, men," he roared threat 
 eningly, " there is something rotten here. I 
 am tired of this ghost talk; I Ve had enough 
 of it. Ghosts do n't lift bars out of sockets in 
 broad daylight. Somebody set this man free, 
 and, by all the gods, I am going to find out 
 who it was. This is the king's business, and 
 I am not going to be balked by man, or devil. 
 And you are going with me, Guieteau, you 
 and your men. I '11 kill the first dastard who 
 attempts to get away." He swept his leveled 
 pistol in their faces menacingly. " Come on 
 now, you fellows have more reason to fear me 
 than anything up yonder. A half dozen of 
 you light torches; the rest arm yourselves.
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 Jump, curse you; there '11 be no more talk! " 
 He sprang on the lower step, and faced about 
 savagely. Whatever fear he might have felt 
 at first had vanished in fierce determination. 
 This was the work of men, and his only 
 thought was to capture, and crush. 
 
 " Guieteau, do you hear me? " he snapped. 
 " Good God, man, when did I ever give an 
 order twice! I '11 blow a hole through your 
 thick skull if you stand there and stare at me 
 a minute longer. Get back of those fellows 
 and drive them up here. There that 's more 
 like it. Come on, you fellows with torches. 
 I '11 lead, and you follow. If one of them 
 skulks, Guieteau, shoot the dog down. You 
 have more occasion to be afraid of me, you 
 hell hounds than of any ghost that ever 
 walked. Come on, now! " 
 
 No one of them had any stomach for it, 
 not even de Saule himself, in spite of his bold 
 words, but the latter had wrought himself 
 into a state of anger which drove him for 
 ward, reckless of consequences. The others 
 held back still, irresolute, lacking a leader, yet 
 [259]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 finally driven to advance by the menacing pis 
 tol flourished in their faces by Guieteau, who 
 experienced a revival of courage now that 
 he knew he was to be safely in the rear. That 
 such a cowardly crew would penetrate far 
 along those dark, echoing corridors was un 
 believable. The slightest mysterious noise 
 would bring panic, and send them in head 
 long flight. But the stairs were well lighted, 
 and de Saule, and his lieutenant would drive 
 them up the broad steps. If I was to play 
 ghost the better place for such an exhibition 
 would be farther back, where the gloom would 
 be impenetrable, and the fellows' nerves would 
 be on edge. 
 
 I yet held tightly to the lady, never for a 
 moment indifferent to her presence; now I 
 turned and glanced into her face, our eyes 
 meeting. 
 
 " We must keep out of the coming light," I 
 said swiftly. " There is no time to lose; they 
 will mount this far anyway." 
 
 I helped her to her feet, both of us still 
 watchful of the movements below. 
 [260]
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 " Where shall we go, Monsieur? " she 
 asked, a slight tremor in her low voice. " Do 
 you think they will follow us? " 
 
 " Not far in the dark," I answered reas 
 suringly. " They are ready to run at the first 
 alarm. I have a scheme which will frighten 
 the hearts out of them. You are not afraid 
 of shadows? " 
 
 She glanced backward into the dense gloom 
 of the passageways. 
 
 " Yes," she confessed. " I am afraid, but 
 not so much as of those men below. It is not 
 that I am superstitious, Monsieur, but this 
 place is so grim and desolate, that that I 
 cannot help dreading the dark, and and 
 they told such awful tales " 
 
 "Ay! 'twas enough to frighten a brave 
 man. 'T is no task I like overly well, but there 
 is no choice. Ah ! they are coming take my 
 hand." 
 
 " Where do we go? which way? " 
 
 " To the left, through the big hall. We can 
 reach the tower roof by a narrow stairway 
 one man could hold against an army, if it come 
 [261]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 to blows. Besides I know the passage, and a 
 secret door which may deceive them." 
 
 We ran lightly through the arch, plunging 
 at once into impenetrable darkness. With 
 one hand pressed against the rough stones, the 
 other clasping her's, I led the way. Once or 
 twice we stumbled over debris, and we could 
 hear de Saule's voice in our rear cursing 
 Guieteau for not driving the men faster. It 
 was not until I discovered the entrance to the 
 second apartment that either of us spoke. 
 Then her voice at my ear was but a whisper. 
 
 " Is not this the direction in which the other 
 man fled?" 
 
 "It must be; for there are only the two 
 passages, and he did not follow Gassier." 
 
 " Then we may meet him? " 
 
 " T is likely enough." 
 
 Her hand clasp tightened. 
 
 " But you will not fight, Monsieur," she 
 implored earnestly. " He may be my brother." 
 
 " Not if I can make him understand," I 
 replied. " Whoever he is we should be al 
 lies in this affair. But if we meet it will be 
 [262]
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 in the dark, and he may spring forth desper 
 ately, fighting for his life. I would then need 
 defend myself. 'T would be your part to let 
 him know the truth." 
 
 We were halted in the angle of the wall, 
 for I hesitated to go on, my memory of the 
 way before us vague and uncertain. De Saule, 
 and his gang, had attained the head of the 
 staircase, and the glow of the torches cast a 
 faint reflection across the great room we had 
 just left. I could perceive the dimness of the 
 opposite wall, but the high roof was hidden in 
 darkness. 
 
 The voices of our pursuers were echoing 
 in noisy cadence, each man apparently taking 
 a part in the chorus of protest. The duke 
 alone kept grimly to his purpose, his harsh 
 tone vibrating above the others, and finally 
 hushing the tumult. His fierce anger at the 
 cowardice of his following gave him a cour 
 age foreign to his real nature, and all that was 
 brutal in him rose to the surface. 
 
 " Well, by the gods, you will! " he shouted. 
 "Take the position I say. Here, you torch 
 [263]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 bearers, come forward here yes you go in 
 front of me, and I '11 kill the first dog who 
 tries to run. I '11 give you something to be 
 afraid of, you cowardly hounds ! Now, Guie- 
 teau, bring up the others. What are you two 
 hanging back for? I '11 try the flat of my 
 sword on you, Francois, if ever I see you 
 skulking again. Ah, you would, hey Jules! 
 Perhaps that will teach you to remain where 
 I tell you." There was the sound of a blow, 
 and a falling body. " Get up, or I '11 run the 
 sword point through you! Now stand there. 
 I am captain here tonight. To the left, you 
 men now forward ! " 
 
 The flicker of torches gave warning of their 
 advance, although it was equally evident the 
 bearers were fairly creeping along, driven by 
 de Saule, and the far less eager Guieteau. I 
 could still hear the voice of the latter threat 
 ening the laggards, his abusive tongue cutting 
 like the lash of a whip. The increasing light 
 revealed Mademoiselle's face, and afforded me 
 a dim view of the apartment in which we 
 were. Her eyes implored me. 
 [264]
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 "Please, Monsieur, please; do not delay 
 longer! " 
 
 "No come! I needed this light to make 
 sure. I have only been this way once before, 
 but we shall be safe now in a moment. There 
 are two stairs: one leading up, the other down 
 but I have no knowledge where the latter 
 ends. We will try the roof." 
 
 Alarmed as the girl undoubtedly was at the 
 near approach of our pursuers, I think she 
 dreaded even more the possibility of encount 
 ering the other fugitive in the darkness. There 
 was a mystery about him that could not be 
 ignored who he was, what desperation gave 
 him such recklessness, and from what black 
 corner he might leap out upon us before we 
 were aware. The full measure of the danger 
 behind us we knew, but I retained faith that 
 we would yet outwit de Saule, and his mon 
 grel following. Ay! he was only laughable, 
 seeking us with lighted torches, which gave 
 full knowledge of where he was, and thus en 
 abling us to keep well out of sight. The very 
 vehemence with which he was compelled to 
 [265]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 curse his rabble forward was warning enough, 
 besides being proof that the slightest alarm 
 would send them skurrying backward, leav 
 ing him alone. I had a wild thought to bring 
 this end about, and fight the issue out face to 
 face. Yet I hesitated, for if some accident 
 should happen, and his sword should win, the 
 position of the lady would be too terrible to 
 contemplate. I could not assume the risk 
 there was nothing for it but to hide, and wait 
 the turn of the wheel. I put away the dream 
 of so insane a venture. I felt her pressing 
 against me, her pleading eyes on my face, and 
 thought she sensed the temptation which for 
 the instant assailed me. 
 
 " Please, Monsieur! " 
 
 " I am a soldier it is easier to fight." 
 
 " I know I know ! but remember me, 
 Monsieur. If you should fall, I would be all 
 alone. I am afraid." 
 
 " Afraid ! you ? Why you have proven your 
 courage; 'tis not the first time swords have 
 been drawn for your sake, if all I hear be 
 true. You are Camille d'Enville." 
 [266]
 
 FUGITIVES IN THE RUINS 
 
 " No, no, Monsieur. I am only a fright 
 ened girl. See how I cling to you, trust you. 
 I cannot let you go. Promise you will not 
 leave me." 
 
 " 'Tis an easy pledge. Quick then; I can 
 see the passage now, and we have ample time." 
 
 We crossed the room in swift silence, the 
 red glare of the slowly advancing torches 
 lighting the stone walls. The secret door 
 stood slightly ajar just as I had left it. If the 
 stranger had come this way he must have 
 missed the narrow opening in the wall and 
 found concealment elsewhere. There was no 
 time to speculate as to his whereabouts, how 
 ever the torch-bearers were already at the 
 wide entrance. I drew her within the open 
 ing, and closed behind us the stone door. 
 
 [267] 

 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 WE WERE instantly plunged in dark 
 ness and profound silence, the heavy 
 stone fitting so closely into place that not so 
 much as a ray of light penetrated the crevices. 
 While a century, or more, may have elapsed 
 since that secret door had been swung by hu 
 man hand its mechanism remained perfect, 
 and responded to my lightest touch. Except 
 for a faint click, as the lock caught, there was 
 no noise, not even the creak of a hinge, and 
 the babel of voices with which our pursuers 
 sought to bolster up their courage ceased as 
 by magic. 
 
 We remained there a few moments, breath 
 ing heavily, not from exertion but suspense, 
 my arm still supporting her as she rested 
 against me in unreserved confidence. The 
 narrowness of the stairs afforded us no 
 room, while the intense darkness made the 
 place seem like a grave. The sudden thought 
 [268]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 occurred to me that it might indeed prove to 
 be one, for although I ran my fingers here and 
 there along the smooth face of the stone, I 
 could find nothing resembling an inner spring 
 by which the door might be reopened, and if 
 the scuttle above of stone also should be 
 found closed we were sealed there for all eter 
 nity. It was scarce likely those fellows with 
 out either knew, or would discover, the hidden 
 passage, nor could they hear through those 
 thick walls our cries for release. Even if we 
 attained the roof safely it might be we would 
 be marooned there, finding no other means of 
 descent. However upward lay our only per 
 ceptible chance for rescue, and the dismal 
 foreboding of possible disaster could not help 
 us now. 
 
 We must press on, and meet whatever fate 
 lurked in the darkness above. I could hear 
 the stifled sobbing of my companion, and real 
 ized how much she needed all the reserve 
 strength of my courage to enable her to bear 
 what was before us. She was no longer the 
 court beauty, conscious of her own power of 
 [269]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 position, and reigning like a queen, but a 
 frightened girl, clinging to me in terror. I 
 would not even let the thought come to her 
 that there was other peril fronting us. 
 
 " Come," I said, as heartily as possible, 
 " we are free from those rascals now. Do not 
 be afraid, Mademoiselle; there is nothing here 
 which can hurt you." 
 
 " Can they not find the way, and follow us? 
 Was that a secret door? " 
 
 " Yes, a solid stone fitted into the wall, yet 
 so fastened as to swing on hinges. I never 
 saw it closed, but 't was the work of an artist 
 see, not a ray of light reaches us, or the 
 
 F -'.' 
 
 slightest sound. Doubtless many a lord and 
 lady ay! even a king have found safe 
 refuge here in years gone by." 
 " To what does the passage lead? " 
 " To a tower opposite the one in which you 
 were confined. 'T is not unlike in appear 
 ance, only it is not entirely walled up, and 
 an opening leads to the roof. I had no time 
 to explore, for it was there I met the dwarf 
 Gospele, and took him prisoner. Yet surely 
 [270]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 there must be some other means of descend 
 ing." 
 
 " And you believe those men will not know 
 of this passage? will discover no way in which 
 to open the door, and follow us?" 
 
 " Not they. I doubt if de Saule has ever 
 before been here, and the others, even if they 
 suspect, will say nothing. All those cowards 
 want is some excuse to go back. If Gospele 
 was among them it would be different: he 
 would know, and his brain has the devil's own 
 cunning. But there is nothing to fear now 
 from that mob. Shall we go on? " 
 
 I felt the pressure of her hand. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " I cannot thank you enough for your trust 
 in me," I whispered fervently, inspired to 
 boldness by the firm touch of her fingers. 
 
 "Why should I not trust you?" she ques 
 tioned. " You have always been my friend." 
 
 " Only such a little while, and I have done 
 so little no more than any real man would 
 do. Then you cannot forget that I may be 
 the slayer of your brother."
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " Yet I have forgotten, or rather I do not 
 believe. Some instinct tells me my brother 
 lives. Gospele knew him too well to be mis 
 taken, or misled by any chance resemblance. 
 He told you he actually talked with the man, 
 and even a word would reveal the deception 
 to the quick wit of the dwarf. Monsieur, 
 the man hiding here is Charles d'Enville, and 
 the foul plot in which I was entangled in 
 volved him also." 
 
 "How? What need?" 
 
 " I have thought it out like this: de Saule 
 said enough to implant the suspicion in my 
 mind. Both he, and the king, know me well 
 enough to be assured that I would not yield 
 easily to any threat, or personal danger. They 
 were afraid nothing would move me, so they 
 conceived the idea of capturing Charles also. 
 Then his life would be the stake, and I would 
 be driven to consent to save him." 
 
 " The thing sounds reasonable. 'T is your 
 thought that the king " 
 
 " Ordered him out on some special mission 
 where capture was certain. It was all prear- 
 [272]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 ranged. No doubt he had the orders with 
 him when you two fought. Your sword 
 thrust was not fatal, perhaps not even seri 
 ous, and the moment he was able he rode 
 forth on the king's service." 
 
 " It may be," I acknowledged doubtfully. 
 " The scheme would be one de Saule would 
 be like to concoct, but Louis " 
 
 " You do not know Louis, Monsieur," she 
 interrupted quickly. " 'T is not in camp or 
 field you learn the traits of a king. It is at 
 the court, and in Paris, he reveals himself. 
 To my mind it was rather his scheme than 
 de Saule's. He was very angry with me, and 
 would plan revenge." 
 
 " And if this should not be true? " I asked 
 earnestly. " If the man here should not prove 
 to be your brother? " 
 
 " That shall make no difference, Monsieur, 
 between us," she answered frankly. " Not 
 now. I have trust in you." 
 
 "Always?" 
 
 " Yes, always. Even when I first saw you 
 in the dim light of the garret, before I even 
 [273]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 knew you to be a soldier of France, I believed 
 you a true man. We learn to judge men in 
 the life I have led a life where everyone 
 wears a mask. I can tell the false from the 
 true. I have faith in you, Monsieur; I will 
 have always." 
 
 I did not speak, for I could not utter the 
 words trembling on my lips. Suddenly there 
 yawned between us the chasm of rank and 
 wealth. She was a frightened, trustful girl 
 now, relying on me for help, confiding in me, 
 and forgetful of all else in this moment of 
 her need. 
 
 Yet I must not forget that she was of the 
 old nobility of France, rich, and of a proud 
 family, a beauty of the most ceremonial court 
 of Europe, a toast of the well born and pow 
 erful. Tomorrow she might go back to her 
 own, with only a laugh at the remembrance 
 of our intimacy. 'Twas but an accident 
 which had thrown us together, and her kindly 
 words, after all, might signify no more than 
 natural gratitude. I was to her only a friend 
 in time of need. Just as swiftly I would slip 
 [274]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 out of her life. And why not? What was I 
 to expect anything else? 
 
 Why should I presume that this proud lady 
 of the court would ever really care for me? 
 She could laugh at a king's wish, and scorn 
 his favorites, while I with clinched teeth I 
 remembered what I was. A volunteer lieu 
 tenant of the Irish brigade, an exile in the 
 army of a strange nation, a mere adventurer 
 fighting under an alien flag, selling my sword 
 for gold. True I was the cadet of a great 
 house, the blood in my veins not to be despised 
 by any man, but with ruined fortune, and im 
 poverished acres only as inheritance. In 
 sooth, 'twas absurd, and almost unconsciously 
 I laughed aloud. 
 
 "What is it, Monsieur? that you should 
 laugh?" 
 
 " Only at a stray thought," I explained, but 
 unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. 
 " Nothing to interest you." 
 
 " Oh ! but it would I am sure. If it would 
 make you laugh at such a time, perhaps it 
 might hearten me. What was it? " 
 
 [ 275 1
 
 SHEA. OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " I just thought of us here so close together 
 for a short time," I said reluctantly, " and 
 then remembered suddenly how wide apart 
 we really were." 
 
 " Are we, Monsieur? " 
 
 " I cannot conceive how the chasm could 
 be broader, Mademoiselle. You are Camille 
 d'Enville, and I Arthur Shea. You may not 
 perceive the vast difference, but, believe me, 
 I do. 'T is a wide space which separates the 
 daughter of the Marquis d'Enville from a 
 sub-officer of the Royal Irlandais." 
 
 " You told me once you were of the house 
 of Berwick," she protested quickly. " And 
 my Lord Clare has in my presence called it a 
 princely line." 
 
 I smiled in the darkness, yet with bitterness 
 at my heart. 
 
 " True enough, but our glory is all in the 
 past There is nothing left but memory. To 
 day only a few impoverished acres, and a 
 ruined castle remain for all the grandeur that 
 was. The sons of Berwick have nothing left 
 but their honor, and their swords. I claim 
 [276]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 only, Mademoiselle, the name of a soldier of 
 France; my total income the stipend of the 
 king." 
 
 Her hand closed over mine warmly. 
 
 " Some of the truest men I know, Mon 
 sieur," she said softly, " have bravely met the 
 same misfortune. It is the accident of birth, 
 and can in no way change my thought of you. 
 Tomorrow the Marquis d'Enville might be 
 stripped of all his honors and wealth by some 
 turn of the wheel, yet I would be Camille 
 d'Enville still. And you are Arthur Shea, 
 of the house of Berwick, although you wear 
 a sub-lieutenant's uniform. It is the man I 
 
 see." 
 
 "You speak bravely; the glamour of the 
 court has not spoiled you." 
 
 " Not if you mean a failure to see beneath 
 the clothes. I have witnessed the meanness of 
 kings, Monsieur, and the cruelty of a courtier's 
 smile. And I have learned to recognize men 
 when I meet them. It is no longer a question 
 do I trust you, but do you trust me. I would 
 always be your friend, Monsieur." 
 [277]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " And I yours," I answered eagerly. " Yet 
 I felt I must tell you who it was you con 
 sorted with. I have the pride of my race, 
 Mademoiselle." 
 
 " And I of mine," she replied firmly. " But 
 it has naught to do with clothes or wealth. 
 What was that noise above? " 
 
 " I heard none; but we should be moving 
 upward. The delay here only increases our 
 peril. Retain your clasp of my hand the 
 stairs are narrow, and curve." 
 
 We advanced slowly, for although I deemed 
 the passage clear, yet the darkness was in 
 tense, and a certain fear of encountering the 
 unknown rendered me cautious. Even at the 
 last turn there was no guidance of light from 
 above, but my groping hand discovered the 
 guarding stone thrust back in its grooves. 
 Whispering to her to wait, I crept through 
 the opening, and drew my body to the floor of 
 the tower. The solid walls surrounding me, 
 with only the one narrow doorway leading to 
 the roof, and that partially obscured by vines, 
 left the place scarcely less dark than the 
 [278]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 gloomy stairs below. Straining my eyes, and 
 listening intently, I could perceive no object, 
 or hear sound, more alarming than the wind 
 rattling the leaves. Convinced that the tower, 
 at least, was unoccupied, I reached back, and 
 assisted her up beside me. For a moment of 
 indecision we rested there, holding our 
 breath, and listening for any warning noise. 
 Her form pressed closely against me, and the 
 sensation of that near contact made me oblivi 
 ous to all else. At last she questioned. 
 
 " Is there a door, Monsieur? I can see 
 nothing." 
 
 " Yes, it is over there. I can see the glim 
 mer of a star through the opening from where 
 I lie. I do not believe there is anything to 
 fear, and I know the way." 
 
 " But where could the other man have 
 gone?" she urged, her mind still hopeful of 
 finding him to be her brother. " Was there 
 some other passage? " 
 
 " I found none," I confessed, " when I came 
 this way before, but there must be one. I did 
 not search with care, for I was following
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 Gospele, but I am certain the man is not here. 
 He must be in hiding somewhere below. Arc 
 you ready? Shall we explore the roof? " 
 
 The pressure of her hand answered me, and 
 I arose to my feet, gripping the hilt of my 
 sword. I felt not the slightest anticipation of 
 encountering any antagonist, yet my instincts 
 were those of a soldier, guarding against sur 
 prise. I stepped ahead, feeling the clasp of 
 her hand on my sleeve, and stood erect in the 
 opening, holding aside the vines so as to see 
 more clearly. Dark as the night was a dim 
 gleam of far off stars, peering through rifts 
 of cloud, gave faint illumination. It was a 
 ghostly, spectral light, concealing more than 
 it revealed, and rendering grotesque the most 
 familiar objects. Someway it was more 
 frightful than the darkness through which we 
 had been groping, and the startled girl 
 clutched me in terror, staring about at the odd 
 shadows. I had a glimpse of her face, and 
 its expression of despair and appeal served to 
 steady my own nerves. 
 
 " 'T is nothing but the flicker of the stars, 
 [280]
 
 THE VISION ON THE ROOF 
 
 Mademoiselle," I whispered quietly. " We 
 are alone see, nothing moves." 
 
 "Oh, but it does move!" she sobbed. 
 " Look over yonder! Mon Dieu! can you not 
 see! It comes here I" 
 
 I saw the thing now, my gaze following 
 her pointed finger, and my heart seemed to 
 stop its beating. Saint Christopher! What 
 was it! For the instant I could not tell, so 
 strange, so bizarre was the figure; then a star 
 gleam caught it in a spectral ray it stood 
 upright, encased in ancient armor! 
 
 [281]
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 NEVER have I known a Celt wholly free 
 from faith in the supernatural. It is 
 the inheritance of our race, and, although I 
 might laugh at the experience of others, yet, 
 for the instant, peering through the dim spec 
 tral light which barely rendered that roof 
 scene visible, I never doubted but what that 
 ghostly moving figure was a visitant from be 
 yond the grave. What else could it be, save 
 some returning spirit of the ancient past, 
 guarding these ruined battlements? There 
 still rang in my ears memory of those words 
 of fear uttered by frightened men in the hall 
 below men who claimed to have seen with 
 their own eyes such ghostly guardians, and 
 who had fled before them in terror. I had 
 believed then they were but superstitious cow 
 ards, victims of imagination. Yet I had not 
 forgotten the drear tale of Guieteau, nor the 
 verification of Francois, and Jules. It had 
 [282]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 haunted me as I burrowed in the dark of those 
 gloomy corridors, and was never absent from 
 memory, as I gazed back at those approaching 
 torches, and read the uncontrollable fear 
 marking the faces of their bearers. It was 
 ghosts, not men, they shrank from, and, in 
 spite of every effort, the same dread terror of 
 the unknown chilled my blood. And now I 
 faced the thing! This was no dream, no mere 
 shadow, but a horrible reality. The stars 
 gleamed on a suit of mail, on closed helmet, on 
 the blade of a great two-handed sword. Ay! 
 And the thing moved toward me in silent, 
 menacing grimness. It was there! there! 
 and drawing nearer! I could rub my eyes, 
 could shade them with my arm, but the awful 
 figure was still there! Nothing would blot 
 it out, obliterate its horror, or convince me of 
 its unreality. The ghastly apparition faced 
 me, advanced, seemed to challenge me to mor 
 tal combat. 
 
 Men have called me brave, but I had no 
 courage then. By the saints, I was afraid, 
 beads of cold perspiration on my face, my 
 [283]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 very breath stopped, my limbs shaking as with 
 palsy. The good God knows what held me 
 to my place; perchance I was rooted there 
 by fear, paralyzed by terror. Yet it could not 
 be that alone, for I retained the strength to 
 act, the conception of duty. Mademoiselle 
 sank to the roof, giving utterance to one sharp 
 cry, and hiding her face in her hands. Scarce 
 knowing what I did, or why, I took a step 
 forward, my sword drawn, and stood between 
 them, fronting I knew not what! 
 
 And the thing real or unreal, spirit of 
 the dead, or vision of the living came 
 straight toward me. I thought I could see the 
 spots of rust on the steel breastplate, the 
 gleam of eyes through the bars of the visor. 
 Yet there was no sound to break the spell 
 no voice to challenge me: no heavy foot 
 crunched on the stone of the roof. The figure 
 moved, but did not appear to walk, seeming 
 rather to glide forward effortless, a mere spec 
 tral shadow. I even imagined I could per 
 ceive a star gleam through the very body of it, 
 as if the whole figure was but floating vapor. 
 [284]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 Only that huge, two-handed sword moved, 
 and was held aloft by hands grasping the hilt. 
 I think the certainty of this was all that kept 
 me sane; alone served to convince me that I 
 fronted a masquerade that this was no spirit 
 from another world, but a human being that 
 confronted me. 
 
 As the suspicion flashed through my brain, 
 manhood reasserted itself. I stood erect, alert 
 and ready, my blade thrust upward to ward a 
 blow. It was instinct, training, discipline, 
 which put me instantly on defense. I was 
 scarcely conscious of my own actions, yet my 
 eyes sought the opening in the visor, and my 
 sword leaped to the guard. The great blade 
 was poised to strike; the hands that held it 
 now so close I was sure they were of flesh and 
 blood. Anger took the place of fear in my 
 heart, and I took a step forward, driving my 
 point at what I took to be a crevice in the 
 armor. I must have missed, for the blade 
 struck solid, bending to the force of the blow, 
 the point flying up, and slashing the exposed 
 wrist. The huge broadsword fell with a clang 
 [285]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 at my feet, and the armor clad figure staggered 
 back. But I knew now I faced a man knew 
 it by the resistance of that steel breastplate, 
 and by the smothered French oath which 
 burst from his lips. I flung myself at him, 
 the weight of my body hurling the fellow 
 back, but my hands slipped from the smooth 
 armor, finding no finger grip. We went down 
 together, I on top. He lay motionless, his 
 arms outstretched, the armor encasing him 
 black and shapeless. Even with my ear at 
 the visor of his helmet I could distinguish no 
 pulsing of breath. Yet surely the fellow could 
 not be dead. The blow dealt had not pene 
 trated the mail, nor been of sufficient weight 
 to do much injury. His unconsciousness must 
 arise from the violence of his fall, and heavy 
 pressure of the armor. 
 
 Confident that he was helpless to do farther 
 harm I arose to my knees, and glanced about 
 to distinguish Mademoiselle. She was within 
 the darker shadow of the tower, scarcely dis 
 cernible, but at my movement her voice 
 spoke. 
 
 [286]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 " Is it you, Monsieur? You are not hurt? " 
 
 " By not so much as a scratch," I answered, 
 now entirely myself again. " The man was so 
 burdened he could not fight." 
 
 "A man! That was a man? " 
 
 " So I make it, for he cried out lustily 
 enough, and in rare French, when my blade 
 rasped him. But the ears alone bear witness 
 thus far, as the eyes only reveal the steel case 
 ments. He seems smothered, and I possess 
 small knowledge how he is fastened together. 
 Can you come here, Mademoiselle?" 
 
 She came forward quickly enough, but once 
 beside me hesitated, staring reluctantly down 
 through the darkness at the motionless black 
 object at her feet. 
 
 "You think him dead?" 
 
 " No, but likely to be, unless we loosen this 
 helmet, and give him air. He must have 
 struck heavily as he fell, and is stunned. This 
 is the clasp here, is it not? this leather thing I 
 Faith, 't is as hard as iron." 
 
 Her hands helped me, and the prisoner 
 stirred, and gave utterance to a groan, as we 
 [287]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 tugged at the rusted buckle. It yielded slowly 
 to our combined efforts, but even then it was 
 a task to press back the face of the helmet. 
 The man drew in a long breath, yet still lay 
 motionless, the faint light not sufficient to re 
 veal his features. The girl clung to my arm 
 in uncertainty. 
 
 "Who is he? Can you see? " 
 
 " Only a dim outline, but I have no doubt 
 he will prove to be the fugitive. None of La 
 Forte's gang would venture here alone at this 
 hour. To my mind, now that I have my senses 
 again, the whole thing is natural enough. 
 The man knew the superstitious fright of 
 those fellows below, and planned to play 
 ghost to win a way out. Not so bad a scheme 
 either. Saint Denis! but he had my blood 
 turned to ice. Not until my sword struck 
 did I believe it to be a man who fronted me." 
 
 She drew in her breath quickly, hiding her 
 face on my sleeve, and I drew her more closely 
 to me, the very recurring memory of that mo 
 ment of horror causing us to forget all else. 
 
 "I I was never so frightened before," 
 [28S]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 she confessed brokenly. "I I could not 
 even stand, but but you " 
 
 " 1 1 Do not make any hero of me, Ma 
 demoiselle, in this affair," I confessed lightly. 
 " Faith 1 I lacked strength to run, that was 
 all. A child could have overcome me with 
 a feather. 'T was only that the fellow could 
 not fight in his armor that gave me victory. 
 He was worse off than I." 
 
 " But not so frightened." 
 
 " No, he had that advantage, although he 
 probably had no thought of coming to blows 
 when he donned that suit of mail. He must 
 have found it somewhere in his flight, and 
 managed to get into it, believing the fright of 
 his appearance would scatter all before him. 
 Why he should be up here puzzles me: ay! 
 and how he ever held up that broadsword. 
 Feel the weight of it, Mademoiselle. Who 
 ever the fellow is, he is no weakling. I '11 
 turn him over, and see what I can do with this 
 breastplate." 
 
 The movement must have aroused the man 
 to consciousness, or else it pained him into 
 [289]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 expostulation, for he swore a round oath, and 
 made a vain effort to sit up. I helped by 
 bracing my shoulder under him, and the star 
 light gave me an unsatisfactory glimpse of 
 his face. 
 
 "Unloose the old iron!" he said heartily, 
 striving to make me out through the darkness, 
 but evidently unaware of the near presence of 
 the girl. " It is worse than being in jail not 
 that I have ever tried it, although I suppose 
 you have but, anyway, this is bad enough. 
 Come, my good fellow, help me out of the 
 cursed thing." 
 
 " How does it open, friend? " I asked, feel 
 ing in vain for some clasp, and tempted to 
 laugh at his impatience. " I can find nothing 
 to lay hold upon." 
 
 "Saint Agnes! how should I know? 
 There 's a catch there somewhere. Ay! in the 
 back, or side. By my faith, the affair went 
 together easily enough ; just a click, and I was 
 trussed up like a fowl. Turn me over, and 
 you may find the spot the thing is so tight 
 I can scarcely breathe. Hah! that's better. 
 [290]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 Heaven preserve me! What's here? a 
 woman? " 
 
 " Yes," I said rather shortly, not altogether 
 pleased with his tone of command. " A 
 woman, and it might be well for you to mind 
 your words." 
 
 " Piff 1 " he returned carelessly, " little any 
 thing I may say will hurt her, I imagine. If 
 she consorts with these ruffians " 
 
 " Now see here," I broke in roughly enough 
 to hush him. " You are not talking to any of 
 La Forte's gang, and I have small inclination 
 to take orders from you, whoever you may be. 
 Bear that in mind, will you. Now then lie 
 still here is something at last not unlike a 
 clasp." 
 
 He turned obediently enough to the pres 
 sure of my grip, but continued to stare at me 
 through the darkness. At last his temper 
 broke loose. 
 
 " If I was free from this I would make you 
 answer, my fine fellow." 
 
 " You are likely to have the chance, if you 
 keep still a minute. Now I have it sit up." 
 [291 ]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 He did, and I took off the heavy breast 
 plate, and cast it down on the roof. 
 
 " See what you can do with the rest of the 
 harness. This is no time for talk." 
 
 Able to attain his feet once more, all the 
 natural audacity seemed to return. The visor 
 still concealed his face, and so muffled his 
 voice I could barely distinguish his words. 
 Not knowing what the fool might attempt I 
 arose and faced him. 
 
 "Isn't it!" he sneered, his tone ugly 
 
 \ 
 
 enough. " Now see here, fellow, I am able 
 to take care of myself, and I talk when I 
 please. You Ve done me a good turn, but no 
 ragamuffin of an outlaw can tell me to keep 
 still." 
 
 " If you refer to me," I returned coldly, but 
 with inclination to throttle him, " you waste 
 breath with your threats. I am no outlaw; 
 but a French officer." 
 
 " You ! How came you here? " 
 
 " The story can wait. Enough that I am 
 what I claim to be." 
 
 "And the woman?" 
 [292]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 "A high born lady of France, for whose 
 honor I would fight you most gladly, Mon 
 
 sieur." 
 
 He turned toward her, no more than a dim, 
 ill-defined shadow in the gloom, and bowed 
 low, with excess of gallantry. Then he 
 fronted me again, and laughed. 
 
 " Then indeed have I fallen into worthy 
 hands," he commented sarcastically. " An 
 officer and a lady, hey, in this black hole. It 
 has the twang of romance. You also flee those 
 devils below?" 
 
 " We were seeking some way of escape 
 when we met you." 
 
 "And mistook me for a ghost is that it! 
 Well, you were scared badly enough. Hal I 
 know now what it was that held you you 
 were ashamed to play the coward before the 
 girl. And that was what overcame me. I 
 had no chance to fight in those things, but 
 thought the very sight of them would send 
 you flying. So it would, no doubt, had you 
 been one of La Forte's miscreants. In sooth, 
 I J m sorry not to try it on them." 
 [293]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and then laughed 
 again, as if a new idea had struck him. 
 
 " By Gadl I have itl A French officer, 
 say you? Ah! and I '11 make a guess at the 
 name. Saint Anne! I thought I knew that 
 voice, although to save me I could n't put a 
 handle to it. Are you Shea, of the Irish 
 Brigade?" 
 
 " I am," I answered, still on my guard, for 
 the actions of the man puzzled me. " But you 
 have the advantage with your face concealed. 
 Let 's have done with this masquerade, Mon 
 sieur, and find out if we are to be friends or 
 foes. There is a lady here who needs de 
 fenders." 
 
 He had found the clasp of the helmet, and 
 flung the heavy bit of armor aside, turning 
 toward where she stood with a low bow. 
 
 " A duty in which I have never been known 
 to fail, my hot-headed Irish friend," he said 
 almost gaily. "Faith, but this is an odd af 
 fair, so odd I take it to be the devil's own 
 brewing. What say you if I name myself 
 Charles d'Enville? " 
 
 [294]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 " Only that I sincerely thank God," I re 
 plied soberly, not so greatly surprised at his 
 disclosure, yet immensely relieved. " I half 
 suspected, Monsieur, although I fled the 
 camp believing you seriously hurt. I do not 
 understand, but I am glad." 
 
 " No doubt of that," and to my surprise he 
 cordially extended his hand. " And it was no 
 fault of you, or your sword blade. The blow 
 was for the heart, had it not encountered a 
 decoration, which turned it into a flesh wound. 
 However, it was a fair fight between com 
 rades, and no doubt I spoke harshly 'tis 
 apt to be my way. Let 's have done with the 
 memory of it, and turn to our task, Monsieur. 
 The lady is one you know? " 
 
 " I call her friend, Monsieur, and your 
 sister." 
 
 He wheeled suddenly, still hampered in 
 his movements by the heavy armor clinging 
 to his lower limbs, but no longer careless, or 
 feigning indifference. The very sound of his 
 voice took on a new tone. 
 
 " My sister, you say? Camille you you 
 [295]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 here I My God ! this is strange 1 Tell me, how 
 does it happen? You were in Paris three days 
 ago." 
 
 She clung to him sobbing, scarcely able to 
 control her voice. 
 
 " Do not ask me now, Charles," she man 
 aged to articulate. " It was all a foul plot, 
 in which we were both involved. I I can 
 not speak; I I am so glad you are alive." 
 
 " Oh, ho, so this young jackanapes has been 
 boasting that he split me on his sword, hey! 
 'T is not so easily done. But I would get to 
 the truth of this matter. Is the Irishman 
 friend or foe? " 
 
 She held his arm firmly. 
 
 "Do not mistrust him; he has been my 
 friend. He is here now seeking to save me. 
 It is de Saule who has plotted evil." 
 
 " De Saule! Ah! I have a glimmer of 
 light. The fiend would win by force, what he 
 cannot gain otherwise. And the king? " 
 
 " Aids him Louis likes to have his own 
 way." 
 
 " Listen to me, d'Enville," I broke in im- 
 [296]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 patiently. " And I will give you the story in 
 a word. Mademoiselle is frightened and un 
 strung. 'T is like this, as I have picked it up. 
 Louis would marry his favorite to Made 
 moiselle d'Enville, and the lady will have 
 nothing of the match. She shows her good 
 taste. But de Saule has power with the king, 
 and a wit to devise other means than persua 
 sion. With the help of the king he plots. Ay! 
 and, only that I came in accidentally, the plan 
 was not so bad. They induce Mademoiselle 
 to leave Paris with dispatches, guided by a 
 fellow in de Saule's pay. They convince her 
 that only a woman can penetrate the lines of 
 the allies. They know her spirit; that she 
 loves France and will volunteer to go. That 
 is easy. She is to be guided into an ambus 
 cade, and taken prisoner by La Forte's rascals; 
 and thus kidnaped then brought to this cas 
 tle of Roisel " 
 
 "IsthisRoisel?" 
 
 "Ay! a deserted ruin for three hundred 
 years, by all the peasants hereabout supposed 
 to be haunted. 'T is a fine rendezvous for 
 [297]
 
 SHEA. OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 such banditti. 'Twas so chosen. De Saule 
 himself was hand in glove with the villains in 
 their infernal plot." 
 
 "With La Porte?" 
 
 " Small doubt of that. Mademoiselle says 
 he is La Porte; that he has boasted of it to 
 her." 
 
 " Mon Dieuf But go on. I begin to see 
 where I come in on this scheme 'T was the 
 king's order that sent me afield on wild goose 
 chase." 
 
 " I thought as much. It was all arranged 
 to work smoothly, but luck intervened. 'T was 
 a party of English guards who captured Ma 
 demoiselle, before La Porte's men had a 
 chance. Her guide was killed, and she was 
 brought to an inn in the village out yonder. 
 It was there we met first, and endeavored to 
 escape. But while I sought a horse the lady 
 was spirited away, and brought here. Some 
 fate led me right, and, under God, I found 
 her." 
 
 D'Enville stood motionless, waiting for me 
 to go on, his eyes turning from my obscured 
 [298]
 
 WE LAY THE GHOST 
 
 face toward his sister, as though he would 
 assure himself. 
 
 " He has served you? " he asked finally, his 
 tone hard, and insistent. 
 
 For answer she crossed to me, and held out 
 both hands. 
 
 " He is a true man," she said simply, glanc 
 ing backward across her shoulder. " I have 
 every trust in Arthur Shea." 
 
 [299]
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 THE chevalier, moving his steel clad 
 limbs awkwardly, managed to shuffle 
 forward to where our dim shapes assumed 
 some semblance to reality. It relieved me 
 when his lips emitted a good-natured laugh. 
 
 " You must, indeed, have proven your 
 worth, Monsieur, to win such words of confi 
 dence, from the lady," he said stifling his 
 amusement. "Faith! I know this sister of 
 mine, and never have I heard her speak so 
 frankly before. And her recommendation is 
 good enough for me. Your hand again, 
 Monsieur. Ay! and a good firm grip I like 
 that. It is the kind that holds a sword firm, 
 and strikes home. Never dream I hold ani 
 mosity for the prick you gave me. 'T was a 
 fair battle, and you Irish are of a fighting race ; 
 J t is in the blood. So we '11 be done with that, 
 and stand comrades now. What say you, 
 lieutenant? " 
 
 [300]
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 " With all my heart," I answered heartily. 
 " We have enough of villainy to war against 
 to wipe out our foolish quarrel. Why, friend, 
 I hardly recall now what caused it so let 
 it go." ' 
 
 We stood silent, hand in hand. 
 
 "You say de Saule is himself here?" he 
 asked as if still doubtful. 
 
 " I saw him myself in the hall below, and 
 he led the way up the stairs in search after you. 
 'T was the man you knocked down when you 
 ran, and you left your mark on him. There 
 is no doubt about the fellow, for he held con 
 verse with Mademoiselle, and threatened her. 
 Ay! the duke is here fast enough, and his 
 humped-back dwarf is with him." 
 
 "The wretch Gospele?" 
 
 " That is the fellow. I found him here 
 alone on the roof, and dragged a confession 
 out of the scoundrel. The moment I recog 
 nized him I knew de Saule was involved, and 
 suspected his purpose. The dwarf is locked 
 safely in the same cell you occupied. Did you 
 kill Deslins, Monsieur?" 
 [301 ]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 "If you mean the jailer yes," he an 
 swered indifferently. " The thief wore my 
 uniform, and before I could strip it from him 
 someone approached, and I was compelled 
 to hide." 
 
 " Gospele, no doubt; I caught my first 
 glimpse of the fellow in the alcove of the 
 big hall." 
 
 " It may have been, although I was not 
 where I could see. However, there was more 
 than one, for I heard voices. Once later I 
 endeavored to reach the stairs, but there was 
 a man there seemingly on guard. Then he 
 disappeared somewhere, but I had no sooner 
 stolen into the corridor than someone came 
 tramping down upon me from the rear. You 
 say this was de Saule? " 
 
 " He was the man, returning below after 
 having conversed with Mademoiselle." 
 
 " I had but a glimpse of him, and it was 
 already growing dusk. I sprang aside into a 
 small room beyond, and found a man skulk 
 ing there. He was more frightened than I, 
 although neither of us dare speak a word. 
 [302]
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 His was a face I had seen before, yet cannot 
 recall where. Do you know who he was, 
 Monsieur? " 
 
 " A captain of the Regiment of Touraine, 
 Emil Gassier. I found him prisoner on the 
 lower floor, and left him to watch, while I 
 sought for a way out. He was the man on 
 guard at the stairs. He is dead." 
 
 "Dead!" 
 
 " Ay! he toppled over, and fell to the stone 
 flags below. The horror of his death cry 
 rings in my ears yet" 
 
 " 'T was the scream I heard. I thought it 
 the wail of a ghost, and my blood ran cold." 
 
 I felt Mademoiselle's hands clutching mine 
 in nervous terror. 
 
 " Monsieur," she whispered. " Let us not 
 stand here and talk of all this. It can do no 
 good, and it only frightens me to remember. 
 I am not a soldier, Monsieur; I am just a 
 
 woman." 
 
 " For which I am thankful," I returned in 
 the same low voice, and glad to be aroused 
 to action. " Come, chevalier, the whole af- 
 [303]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 fair is sufficiently explained. Get your limbs 
 free from that harness, and we will soon dis 
 cover if there be any other way down from 
 this roof." 
 
 " I doubt if there is," he growled, tugging 
 at the clasps. " I was seeking for some pas 
 sage when you came, but had found none. 
 Give me your help here press the hook 
 back; so. Now try the other one. Not you, 
 Camille, 'twill only hurt your fingers. Let 
 me get hold with you, Shea. It was bad 
 enough dressing up in this rig, but the getting 
 out of it is a confounded sight harder. Ah I 
 it gives ah, I 'm a man again, and can act 
 the part." 
 
 I stood up, and glanced about, seeking to 
 distinguish more clearly the objects surround 
 ing us. I had been too busily engaged during 
 my first visit to make any exploration, but 
 now the necessity of knowing our exact situ 
 ation became clearly apparent. I was no 
 longer alone in my responsibility, and d'En- 
 ville possessed the reputation of reckless dar 
 ing, and no small prowess in arms. Yet it was 
 [304]
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 not reckless fighting, but wit, which would 
 better serve us now. There was no sound of 
 our pursuers the chances were they had 
 failed to discover the secret door leading to 
 the stairs, or were unable to learn its mechan 
 ism. It was evident also they knew of no 
 other means of attaining the roof. But for 
 de Saule's leadership we would have little to 
 fear, for his cowardly following would troop 
 backward to the lower floor at the slightest 
 excuse. But de Saule was of bull-dog breed, 
 and would hang on. Ay! the man had too 
 much at stake to let go; his thoughtless con 
 fession to Mademoiselle relative to his con 
 nection with these outlaws would alone 
 render him desperate, for if once the truth 
 reached the ears of the king, his days of favor 
 were ended. And what course would he pur 
 sue when he found his way blocked? Where 
 would he naturally turn? It was a riddle not 
 hard to read. He had no reason to suspect 
 my presence in the castle, and no knowledge 
 of the release of Mademoiselle from her con*- 
 finement in the tower. 
 
 [305]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 In our flight through the darkness he had 
 gained no glimpse of our presence. But he 
 was aware of the death of Deslins, and, might 
 naturally suspect that d'Enville had killed the 
 jailer. Indeed it was highly probable he had 
 even recognized the latter in the fight at the 
 head of the stairs. Then the first thing he 
 would do, when he found pursuit useless, 
 would be to retrace his steps, and learn posi 
 tively if the chevalier had escaped from the 
 cell in which he had been confined. That 
 search would release Gospele, would reveal 
 my presence, and, undoubtedly lead to the 
 knowledge that the lady had also escaped. 
 Such information would only serve to increase 
 de Saule's anger, and render him desperate. 
 He would have everything at stake, and would 
 hesitate at nothing. 
 
 And Gospele could furnish him with the 
 information needed. I felt no doubt as to 
 that, for the dwarf had not wandered for days 
 about those corridors without discovering 
 their secrets. He would recall instantly the 
 door leading to the stairs, and might even 
 [306]
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 know how to manipulate the hidden spring 
 by which it operated. And de Saule would 
 drag the information from the slinking cur; 
 would drive his gang of cutthroats through 
 the darkness, and compel them to do his will. 
 Ay! he was man enough for that for he 
 would realize that all his future depended on 
 our capture. It was likely enough they were 
 below there now, making ready to steal cau 
 tiously up the narrow stairs, and pounce upon 
 us. We had enjoyed a respite, a breathing 
 spell, an opportunity to gather our wits, and 
 take counsel together. For a brief space we 
 had baffled, and confused the villains, but 
 soon, if not already, they would be on our trail, 
 and we must depend upon ourselves; there 
 was no outside help probable no wandering 
 patrol, French, or allied, would likely come 
 to our rescue. I glanced at Mademoiselle, 
 the outline of her sweet face barely visible, 
 and my hands clinched with desperate 
 resolve. 
 
 " You say, d'Enville, there is no other way 
 down?" 
 
 [307]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 " Only that I found none, and I searched 
 as best I could. 5 T is strange too the place 
 should be left a cul-de-sac." 
 
 " There may be a secret way, not to be un 
 covered in the dark. 'Twas mere luck that 
 revealed the other, the stone left ajar. How 
 ever, 't is plain there is but one plan left us, 
 Chevalier, and that is to defend those stairs 
 yonder until daylight gives us a chance to 
 search. By this time the dawn cannot be very 
 far away." 
 
 He glanced about uneasily. 
 
 " You believe they may discover the pas 
 sage?" 
 
 " 'T is my reasoning that de Saule will 
 prowl about until he finds that rascal of a 
 dwarf locked up where I left him. The fel 
 low undoubtedly knows the secret of those 
 stairs. The rest is plain, Monsieur, for you 
 know de Saule." 
 
 " A spawn of the devil ! " 
 
 "And desperate withal; our escape will 
 mean his ruin, and he will hesitate at no crime. 
 Are you armed? " 
 
 [308]
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 He laughed, as though the thought amused 
 his humor, and stooped down to grasp the 
 ancient broadsword at his feet. 
 
 " Only with this neat weapon. I know not 
 the name it once went by, but the tuck calls 
 for a man with two good hands to wield it. 
 Try the weight of the metal, friend. Saint 
 Anne! there must have been giants in those 
 days to twirl a blade like this." 
 
 We were careless, I admit, idling there in 
 talk, when our effort should have been to make 
 secure our defense against those villains be 
 low. Yet there was nothing to cause alarm, 
 no sound even of voices in the still night. The 
 thought that Gospele released might know 
 the secret of the stone door, and lead de Saule 
 to the roof, was no more than a suspicion, and, 
 if the men did discover the stair, their advance 
 upward would surely never be a silent one. 
 I doubted if even the duke could drive them 
 to such a venture, before dawn made the pas 
 sage clear, but, if he did succeed, it would 
 only be attempted under the glare of torches, 
 the light of which would instantly betray their 
 [309]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 coming. And the defense was likely to be no 
 more than child's play; a single stout arm in 
 the tower could drive back the whole crew. 
 Besides the reckless nature of d'Enville had 
 effect on me. He was an older man, a more 
 experienced soldier, an officer of higher rank, 
 and his careless good nature, and the spirit 
 of badinage, served to transform a situation 
 really serious into a bit of sport. To my sug 
 gestion that we stand on guard, he but 
 laughed, and shrugged his shoulders, whisper 
 ing some message to Mademoiselle, which 
 might have been reflection on my courage. At 
 least the supposition served to heat my blood, 
 and silence my tongue. 
 
 Had we two been alone words might have 
 led to quarrel, for there was an insolence 
 about the fellow that rasped me, in spite of 
 his pretense at comaraderie. It was not my 
 nature to stand quiet before any reflection, 
 veiled or open, and there was a sneer in the 
 man's voice not to be ignored. My hand 
 gripped my sword hilt, a hot retort on my 
 lips but she was his sister, and I loved her. 
 [3io]
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 We could not contend, not there, at least, in 
 her presence, and my fingers relaxed, and I 
 walked away from them into the deeper 
 shadow of the high wall, struggling to conquer 
 myself. She must have understood a 
 woman's intuition telling her the truth, for a 
 moment later her shadow left his side, and 
 came silently toward me. I remained motion 
 less, leaning on a stone, until her hand touched 
 my arm. 
 
 " Monsieur," she said softly. " It is only 
 his way; he was ever careless of speech." 
 
 " And of manners," I could not help add 
 ing bitterly, although my fingers clasped her 
 own. " Yet you need not fear, Mademoiselle, 
 for although I am young of heart, and hot of 
 blood, there shall be no exchange of words 
 between us tonight. There may be all the 
 fighting we need in defense of you." 
 
 Her hand clasp tightened, and the faint 
 starlight revealed the contour of her uplifted 
 face, the dark gleam of her eyes. 
 
 " I know," she said, as though the words 
 came unsought. " You came over here to 
 [311]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 gain control. I saw your hand on the sword 
 hilt You are a brave man, Monsieur, and 
 true. Yet I I thought my trust might 
 strengthen you." She glanced about, as though 
 to assure herself we were alone. " He is my 
 brother." 
 
 " I shall not forget, but it is a mystery how 
 you two are of the same blood. Surely he 
 has no more cause for arrogant pride than 
 you?" 
 
 "I am of the court; he, the camp the 
 environment develops different characteristics, 
 Monsieur." 
 
 "True enough, no doubt; yet never did 
 I suppose the court of Louis to be over 
 stocked with modesty, or a school for gentle 
 
 ness." 
 
 " Nor is it, Monsieur," she returned soberly. 
 " Nor am I a flower of such rare excellence. 
 I am not devoid of pride, perchance even of 
 arrogance. I have laughed at a king, and 
 refused obedience. I am also a d'Enville. 
 Others besides the Duke de Saule have dis 
 covered that. 'T is not an angel, but a woman,
 
 THE ATTACK 
 
 Monsieur, whom you have succored yes, a 
 woman of moods. Tonight I am your friend 
 tomorrow " 
 
 She paused, drawing in her breath quickly, 
 and yielding to a swift impulse, I bent down, 
 and kissed her hand. 
 
 " Tomorrow you will still be to me, at least, 
 Camille d'Enville. I am not afraid." 
 
 "What! not even of me, Monsieur? Now 
 I know you for a bold man, yet the boast has 
 been made before by others." 
 
 " But I am not others," I dared to insist, 
 bantered by her words. " I am Arthur Shea, 
 a soldier of fortune. I have all to win, and 
 naught to lose so why should I fear? Have 
 I guessed wrong about tomorrow? " 
 
 She hesitated, the long lashes hiding her 
 eyes. 
 
 "You may guess, Monsieur; I cannot tell. 
 Tomorrow will be a new day. What I am 
 tonight, I am tomorrow, what I may be; I 
 could not tell you, if I would Monsieur, for 
 I know not the answer. There is in the shops 
 of Paris, a changeable weave of silk they call 
 [3i3]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 Camille; at night it is rose-tinted, and by day 
 a golden brown. I am Camille d'Enville ; to 
 those who know me well that is answer 
 enough." 
 
 " But do they know you? Those who think 
 they do?" 
 
 Her eyes flashed up into my face, although 
 in that dim light I could not tell whether they 
 laughed or frowned. 
 
 "They think they do, Monsieur; nor is it 
 for me to say. The truth is for you to learn, 
 yet Charles has always called me a will o' the 
 wisp, and held me uncertain as a bubble of air 
 
 and one's brother should know, Monsieur." 
 I glanced beyond at the dimly revealed fig 
 ure of the silent chevalier, whose very presence 
 I had forgotten. He was apparently kneeling 
 on the roof, although I could not determine 
 what it was that occupied his attention so 
 closely. Indeed I had no time in which to 
 discover, for even as I glanced that way I be 
 held a moving figure behind him, a shapeless 
 form stealing forward through the shadows 
 
 then another, and a third. 
 
 [3H]
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 A" FIRST glimpse I failed to sense the 
 reality of those spectral figures, half be 
 lieving them visionary. So suddenly had they 
 emerged upon view, without warning, that I 
 stood staring in dazed wonderment, striving 
 to collect my faculties, imagining my eyes 
 played me some trick. I even took a step 
 backward, the quick horror of that phantom- 
 like approach bringing to me a twinge of fear 
 paralyzing the mind. Then Mademoiselle 
 gave utterance to a gasp, grasping my arm in 
 terror, and I saw d'Enville rise to his feet, the 
 great broad-sword lifted in both hands. In 
 stantly in swift response to this movement of 
 others, proof that the vision came not from 
 disordered brain, the blood rushed back into 
 my veins and the sword hilt leaped into the 
 grip of my fingers. Those were men con 
 fronting us men! Something to front and 
 fight, wound and kill. The situation came to 
 [3i5]
 
 SHEA. OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 me in a flash they had discovered the mech 
 anism of the secret door, had crept silently 
 up the unguarded stairs, and, taking advan 
 tage of our carelessness, had stolen out upon 
 the roof. De Saule was among them, and 
 Gospele, and the giant Guieteau, eager to get 
 blow at us, no longer fearful of ghosts, and 
 dragging their cowardly crew along by threat 
 and promise. Ay! and they saw us; were 
 circling out to trap us beyond escape to 
 meet them in the open was certain defeat. But 
 here, in the angle of this broken wall, there 
 was a chance we in the blacker shadow, 
 they in the starlight. 
 
 "Back here, d'Enville!" I cried desper 
 ately, thrusting Mademoiselle behind me. 
 " Quick, man! Do n't stop where you are! " 
 
 He heard me, and so did those others, but 
 the chevalier hesitated, all discretion lost, all 
 memory of his sister no doubt, the recklessness 
 of his nature holding him stubborn. 
 
 " Close in, lads! " shouted a voice eagerly. 
 " We Ve got them trapped. They are only 
 men two of them to fight you ! " 
 [316]
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 "Ah! so you think 'twill be easily done 
 de Saule?" and d'Enville laughed. "Come 
 on then, and try, you snarling jackal. 'T is no 
 duelling courtier you fight now, satisfied with 
 a pin prick." 
 
 I called again, my own brain clear enough, 
 and realizing the odds against us. 
 
 " Not in the open ! you have no chance 
 there; come back here." 
 
 I could see the turn of his head, the swift 
 glance he cast toward where I stood shielding 
 the girl. 
 
 "Ay! in a minute, but not till I leave my 
 mark. Ah! I see you now, you black rene 
 gade." 
 
 It was such swift action I could scarce tell 
 what happened. Had I deemed best I could 
 scarce have been of aid, but my plain duty 
 was to remain where I was, crouched in the 
 angle of the wall, the girl behind me, my 
 sword blade ready. I felt the grasp of her 
 hand on my sleeve, and heard the quick puls 
 ing of her breath. I could not distinguish 
 de Saule among the others, but the chevalier 
 [317]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 must have singled him out, for he leaped for 
 ward hurling aside a fellow who stood be 
 tween, and struck viciously. There was a 
 clash of steel, a spark or two as contending 
 blades met, then a mingling of shadowy fig 
 ures, and a sound of angry voices. I doubt if 
 there was a minute of fighting, but it was fierce 
 enough at that! D'Enville cut and thrust like 
 a demon, wielding his ancient weapon with 
 both hands, and making no effort to protect 
 himself. Seemingly he had no thought, or 
 purpose, save to reach the duke, and wreak 
 vengeance, but the latter had no will for such 
 encounter, backing away, and roaring out 
 some order to his men. The chevalier struck 
 them aside like flies, toppling one headlong 
 with thrust of his shoulder; another fell with 
 the sweep downward of the blade, and a sharp 
 scream told me Gospele had felt the stroke. 
 Then he met a real swordsman, and there was 
 clang of steel on steel, a shout of derision, an 
 oath, the noise of trampling feet. I could see 
 little only the confused blot of rapidly moving 
 figures engaged in desperate combat. But for 
 [3i81
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 my obligation to protect the girl kneeling be 
 hind me, her hands clutching my sleeve, I 
 should have leaped forward, careless of my 
 own safety, and hurled myself into that strug 
 gling mass. Yet I dare not leave her there 
 alone. Already there were figures visible to 
 right and left stealing forward, the starlight 
 glimmering on drawn weapons. I heard the 
 heavy bass of Guieteau, as he pointed us out 
 to his creeping jackals, urging them to the 
 attack. A moment more, and I would be at 
 sword-points with the devils, and surely 
 d'Enville was soldier enough to make good 
 his retreat. I shouted to him a swift word of 
 warning, but the man either failed to hear 
 above the turmoil, or else his rage drove all 
 other consideration from his brain. The great 
 two-handed sword crashed and fell, rose again 
 and was swept down with remorseless power. 
 Twice the dark shadows of bodies on the roof 
 broke before him. 
 
 I saw him stumble over them, as he pressed 
 grimly on, seeking only the one antagonist he 
 sought to kill. I doubt if he ever touched 
 [319] 

 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 him, for now as they knew they faced living 
 men, the villains proved their courage, confi 
 dent of superior numbers, eager to bring down 
 their prey. They fought like beasts, dashing 
 in beneath the sweep of his weapon, and grip 
 ping at him with naked hands. He killed, but 
 he paid. I saw the flash of a knife buried in 
 his side, a glare of flame lit the horrid scene 
 as a pistol flared, a dying man clung to him 
 in frenzied agony. Once more the huge 
 sword swept in deadly circle then he tot 
 tered, sought vainly to retain his feet, and 
 went crashing forward, his head against the 
 stairs. 
 
 And now it was I I alone ! Yet as I live, 
 I recall now no pang of fear; no sensation 
 save of joy, of anticipation, as I faced them. 
 The fierce ardor of fight was already in my 
 blood, the eagerness to touch steel, the desire 
 to slay. Ay! but my head was clear I was 
 not meeting that onrush like a mad fool in the 
 open, but in the crevice of the wall, where they 
 must front me. 'T would be a fair fight, and 
 they held me a swordsman even in the army
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 of France. Under God I would put my mark 
 on those dirty devils would leave a tale to 
 tell. Ay! and there were not so many now. 
 D'Enville had taken toll; there was many a 
 splotch yonder where his ancient weapon had 
 bitten deep and, not only that; he had put 
 fear into the craven hearts of the others that 
 lived. 
 
 I heard de Saule and Guieteau cursing, and 
 a blow struck, ere they ventured to move. 
 Then they crept forward like snails, stepping 
 across the dead bodies, breathing hard, and 
 swearing and snarling like a pack of curs. 
 Bah! they were canaille, prowling wolves, 
 with no stomach for fighting. I could hiss at 
 them, and they would slink away howling. 
 But de Saule and his giant lieutenant were of 
 different breed; ay! and with more at stake. 
 This was to be no boy's play, but a passage at 
 arms, and 't was said in Paris the duke wielded 
 a blade in skill. With muscles tense, and 
 sword advanced I waited, drawing in a long 
 breath, every nerve braced and ready. 
 
 Mademoiselle's grasp on my arm relaxed, 
 [321]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 and I realized that she knew what was com 
 ing. She was a soldier's daughter, a soldier's 
 sister, and understood I must be left free. I 
 glanced aside at her, a mere shadow in the 
 concealing niche of the wall. God! if those 
 ruffians ever got to her, it would be when I 
 was dead. 
 
 " Here, take this," I said, thrusting my 
 pistol into her hands. " There is but one shot 
 keep it to the last." 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," the voice firm, assured. 
 
 " There is going to be a fight, but I am good 
 for it," I went on, scarce knowing why I 
 spoke. " Crouch back as far as you can, and 
 keep faith in me." 
 
 " I shall always do that, Monsieur. Are we 
 left alone? is Charles dead?" 
 
 " He fell ; and whether dead or alive, is out 
 of it. They are coming now." 
 
 I could see the fellows, yet they were so 
 bunched, the dim light confused my vision, 
 and 'twas hard to guess how many held their 
 feet. I made it four, beside the leaders, 
 although it seemed like yet another crouched 
 [322]
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 beyond in the shadow. I could not be sure; 
 nor did I care greatly, my teeth set, my blood 
 leaping. 'Twas not such dogs who would 
 win be they four or a dozen. My fight 
 was with Guieteau and de Saule; ay! and the 
 Irish heart of me was full of joy. If she was 
 not there! if she was not there! But I would 
 do the best I could la gentleman of the 
 house of Berwick. The knotted muscles 
 swelled in my forearm; the grip of my fingers 
 viselike on the sword hilt. 
 
 It was all in an instant, this pause, this 
 breathing space. Yet that which followed 
 was so swift of action, so jumbled and indis 
 tinct as to seem more dream than reality. 
 There is nothing clear, vivid about any of it. 
 It was, as desperate fighting always is, a mad, 
 fierce, heedless struggle, where instinct takes 
 the place of thought, and the body moves 
 knowing nothing of the why, or how. There 
 was a blind rush forward, a shout of com 
 mand, a roared out oath, a gleam of weapons 
 in the starlight. I saw the dim forms of men 
 bunched together, their faces vague, uncer- 
 [323!
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 tain; I touched steel with my blade, pushed 
 a foot forward, warded and lunged under the 
 first fellow's guard. There was a cry of 
 agony, a toppling back of his body, the clatter 
 of a falling sword, and I stood over him, 
 thrusting and hacking, careless of my own 
 hurt, the joy of the fighting turning my blood 
 to fire. Oaths, shouts, greeted the onset, 
 bearded faces fronted me, the villains giving 
 way in surprise before so fierce an attack. 
 Bah! they were like children, and my point 
 tasted blood. 
 
 Suddenly out from the confused muck, a 
 blade struck mine a blade with a wrist 
 behind it. I felt the difference, and stiffened 
 to the fight. It was Guieteau, his giant figure 
 looming black and ominous before me. With 
 one sweep of his free arm he hurled those 
 others aside, one sinking helplessly to the roof, 
 and drove his sword straight at me. 
 
 " Get back, you curs! " he yelled savagely, 
 " till I show this fighting cock some sword 
 play." 
 
 'Twas a vicious thrust, sped by a strong 
 [324]
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 arm, and only by lightning speed, and rare 
 luck, did my blade defend it, the sharp point 
 tearing through my sleeve, and forcing me 
 back against the wall. 
 
 "Well struck, you brute!" I answered be 
 tween clinched teeth. " Now take mine! " 
 
 Faith, he was no swordsman, no fencer of 
 skill. I knew that before we had thrust and 
 parried twice, but the giant strength of his 
 arm bore down my guard, forced me to des 
 perate defense. I could prick him, and did, 
 bringing blood from shoulder and thigh, yet 
 I could not drive my blade home, his strength 
 holding me back. Once he struck my head, 
 a glancing blow, and once he drove the hilt 
 of my own sword against my breast so hard it 
 staggered me. Yet I came back at him des 
 perate and reckless, realizing my task. I must 
 kill, else he would wear me out by sheer power 
 of muscle. There was but one way, and I took 
 it. An instant I parried, turning his blade 
 aside with all the skill at fence I could com 
 mand, mocking him, seeking to drive the 
 brute furious with rage. 
 [325]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 "Ay! and where did you learn sword 
 play? " I cried, my blade darting like a 
 venomous snake before his eyes. " In some far 
 rier's shop I warrant. You are more black 
 smith than soldier. Wait! I have a lesson for 
 you here ha! does that taste good? And 
 there is another stroke you never learned a 
 quarter of an inch more, and you would have 
 been out of it next time, my friend, next 
 time. Bah! you are a big, surly cur, but your 
 bark is worse than your bite; well, you Ve 
 done your last robbery, and your last murder, 
 Monsieur Guieteau. Do you know what I 
 am going to do with you? I am going to kill 
 you now! " 
 
 I opened my guard, and he struck, foaming 
 with rage, an oath bursting from his lips. By 
 a quick turn of the arm, my hilt caught the 
 descending blade, and I leaped straight at 
 him, reckless of consequence, taking the one 
 chance, and driving my point at his huge body. 
 It struck, but we went down together, his hand 
 gripping me, my leg caught under him. 
 There was an instant of struggle; someone 
 [326]
 
 THE FIGHT FOR LIFE 
 
 loomed above us with a drawn sword then 
 a flash of flame split the darkness, a sharp re 
 port rang out, and the fellow reeled back 
 ward, tripped on Guieteau's foot, and fell with 
 a crash. I wriggled loose from the dead 
 weight, my sword still gripped in my fingers, 
 and staggered to my feet. 
 
 [327]
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 CROSSED SWORDS WITH DE SAULE 
 
 DAZED as I was I realized what had 
 happened how my life had been 
 saved. Mademoiselle had fired her one shot; 
 had sacrificed her only defense to protect me 
 from that sword thrust. Breathing heavily, my 
 wounds burning, my eyes blinded with blood, 
 the thrill of knowing what she had done, 
 brought back instantly my strength, my zest 
 for battle. I was her champion; alone I stood 
 between her and these villains; God grant me 
 stout heart and arm. I saw dimly, sweeping 
 the blood from before my eyes, endeavoring 
 to distinguish my adversaries. There were 
 but two left, so far as I could see one back 
 close by the steps, as though ready to flee ; the 
 other fronting me, with sword poised for 
 attack. There was no mistaking who he was 
 de Saule! My blade flew up eagerly and the 
 steel met with a sharp clang. 
 
 "Stay where you are, Mademoiselle!" I 
 [328]
 
 CROSSED SWORDS WITH DE SAULE 
 
 called, in fear of what she might venture. 
 " I am all right, and able to pluck this vul 
 ture of his feathers! " 
 
 " You crow loud enough ! " he retorted 
 hotly, " if noise were all. But you front a 
 swordsman this bout, you Irish meddler. I '11 
 show you some Paris tricks! " 
 
 " Go to, Monsieur; no better time to learn 
 than now ; and I '11 teach you how we of the 
 army fight 't is no duel for points, where 
 a pin prick means victory. En guarde, Mon 
 sieur le Duke." 
 
 We were at it furiously, yet with no such 
 recklessness as marked the bout with Guie- 
 teau. Here was a master of fence; I knew 
 his skill before, but now I became doubly 
 assured his was no common hand. The truth 
 was in the steady, firm blade that met mine, 
 the quick, baffling thrust, the swift recovery, 
 the subtle twist of wrist. And the man knew 
 his power, felt confidence in his skill. Ay! 
 but he misjudged mine, and I retained the 
 sense to keep him ignorant. I gave back, my 
 nerve strengthening, my breath slower, ever 
 [329]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 gaining better control of my mental faculties. 
 This was to be a fight to the death, and I could 
 wait, assured of ability to defend myself. I 
 would try the man out, test his temper, learn 
 his tricks of sword play, and where his guard 
 was weak. Yet it proved stern work at that, 
 for he came at me like a demon, deceived 
 by my retreat, and esteeming himself an easy 
 victor. 
 
 There was faint gleam of light in the east 
 ern sky, a mere brightening, yet sufficient to 
 reveal the man's face. I could see the flash 
 of his eyes, the self-satisfied smile curling his 
 lips, as he drove his dancing point along my 
 blade, as though thinking thus to dazzle and 
 frighten me. Ay! and he knew the business, 
 possessing a most pretty fence and guard, a 
 long and deadly thrust, and many a sly trick I 
 had never before seen. But he was a duelist, 
 not a fighter, and mistook words for deeds. 
 
 "Ha! ha! my friend!" he cried, driving 
 
 his glittering point the length of my blade. 
 
 " I have met men of your school before. 
 
 'T was a Royal Irlandais I gave the steel to at 
 
 [330]
 
 CROSSED SWORDS WITH DE SAULE 
 
 Paris a week back. Fools alll If this keeps 
 up there will be small brigade left to stand 
 beside Louis. Do you like that thrust? Mon 
 Dieu! .an eighth of an inch more, and I would 
 have had you. I '11 try another what? you 
 know the guard? Pah! I see; 't was only an 
 awkward turn of the wrist." 
 
 My foot was against the wall, and I stood 
 silent, meeting him fairly blade to blade. The 
 time had come to end it to change defense 
 into attack. Cool as I felt, his voice, bitter, 
 sarcastic, cut to my consciousness. The cur! 
 let him threaten and brag; I would teach him 
 yet what real swordsmanship was. I had a 
 soldier's contempt for a fencer; faith that I 
 would outlast. Let the fellow talk, and waste 
 his breath a moment more, and he would 
 need it. 
 
 " Royal Irlandais," he mocked insolently, 
 no doubt seeking to anger me, " a fine name 
 for a lot of beggarly bog trotters. No doubt 
 you came over seas to sell your sword with 
 not so much as a rag to your back. A rare 
 joke on the king, that. And now you 're 
 [33i]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 squire of dames! Parbleu! boy, and to what 
 reward? a kiss from Mademoiselle's red lips? 
 Bah! you '11 have none of it there 's a man 
 seeking that honey " 
 
 " Save your breath, Monsieur," I broke in 
 coldly, the hot blood boiling through my 
 veins. " There 's work before you now." 
 
 I advanced an inch, two inches, fighting in 
 deadly earnest. He felt my strength, my 
 grim, reckless purpose, and fell silent. All 
 at once he seemed to realize this was to be 
 no boy's play, but grim, desperate work. The 
 look in his eyes changed, the sarcastic smile 
 faded from his lips. They were pressed 
 tightly together in thin line, as his groping 
 steel touched mine with that soft, purring ca 
 ress which pledges deadly action. And I 
 forced him relentlessly, driving him to de 
 fense, permitting no opportunity for thrust. 
 It was feint, and guard, stroke and parry, our 
 nervous blades leaping in and out with the 
 rapidity of lightning. I watched him like a 
 hawk, our steel ringing a merry chorus, our 
 feet shuffling across the roof. Twice we cir- 
 [ 332 ]
 
 CROSSED SWORDS WITH DE SAULE 
 
 cled, striving vainly to strike home; once he 
 pricked my shoulder; twice I felt my lunge 
 touch flesh! Yet neither paused, nor gave 
 back. We were panting for breath, our faces 
 grimly set, the perspiration dripping from our 
 bodies. Saint Patrick! that was a bout at 
 arms to make boast over a fight, no fencing 
 tourney; the growing light scintillating from 
 off the deadly blades, as they darted back and 
 forth in ceaseless thrust and parry. 
 
 He was the stronger man; ay! and the 
 greater skilled ; but I had youth, recklessness, 
 breath, and a more subtle wrist. He fought 
 like a demon, yet I wore him down, forcing 
 him back, inch by inch, until his foot pressed 
 the wall. It was there we ended it he with 
 high guard to block my feint toward his right 
 shoulder; I with quick upward thrust beneath 
 his steel which sent the point of my keen blade 
 hurtling to his heart. His sword fell clatter 
 ing at my feet, and his body crumpled into 
 shapelessness, one gasp alone his death note. 
 
 An instant I stared down at that motionless 
 body against the wall, gripping my sword 
 [333]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 hilt, swaying on my feet like a drunken 
 man. All had occurred so quickly my brain 
 reeled with dizziness he was there fighting 
 like a mad man ; then he was nothing, a mere 
 lifeless thing at my feet. 
 " Monsieur the other man! " 
 Her voice called me, awoke me with its in 
 sistence. I glanced about, jerking free the 
 sword blade, and swung around, blood drip 
 ping from the stained steel. The fellow was 
 there, between us and the tower steps. The 
 dim light of the dawn revealed the creased 
 face of Francois, and he held a gun in his 
 hands. Yet armed as he was, evidently 
 halted by the sudden killing of de Saule, as 
 he stole forward to bear a hand in the fray, 
 his attitude was that of fright, of indecision. 
 Nor did I give him time for thought. I 
 sprang toward him, and he turned and fled, 
 stumbling at the steps in such terror that he 
 dropped his gun. St. Anne! I would have 
 pricked him, had I not stumbled on a piece of 
 d'Enville's discarded armor, and fallen head 
 long. 
 
 [334]
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE SUNRISE OF TOMORROW 
 
 I CAME slowly back to consciousness, to see 
 golden sunlight reflected on the stones of 
 the wall, and Mademoiselle's sweet face 
 bending above, a look of welcome relief in 
 her dark eyes. Her hands held mine, and as 
 I endeavored to smile, the words of impulse 
 dropped from her lips. 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur! it has terrified me so to see 
 you. I knew not what to do; how seriously 
 you were hurt." 
 
 "Bah! not at all," really ashamed of my 
 awkwardness, and struggling to sit up. " I 
 stumbled like a lout and fell, cracking my 
 head. I 'm dizzy yet, but 't is nothing to 
 worry over. That last one got away? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," her anxious eyes on me. 
 " I have seen no more of him, but you you 
 are hurt. There are wounds, for you bleed." 
 
 " Mere scratches, Mademoiselle, to be 
 [335]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 healed by a dash of water. In faith, I have 
 fared worse in a garrison fencing match. De 
 Saule was the only swordsman among them; 
 he gave me a pretty fight. Your hand again 
 till I gain my feet ah! see, the old strength 
 will be mine presently." 
 
 She clung to me, and I reeled a bit un 
 steadily, conscious of pain, my mind still dazed 
 and uncertain. Yet a thrill stirred my blood, 
 as my eyes left her face and glanced about 
 over the roof now clearly revealed in the day 
 light. Ay! it had been a fight worthy any 
 soldier, a tale of arms worth telling in camp 
 or court. 
 
 D'Enville had left his deadly mark ere he 
 fell, and I had borne my part well. The bod 
 ies, motionless, huddled in grotesque shapes 
 just as they had fallen, occasionally lying one 
 upon another here, close to where I stood, 
 those who had felt the sweep of the chevalier's 
 ancient weapon, and over there by the broken 
 wall the others who had lived to advance on 
 me. I saw Jule's face black-bearded, scow 
 ling even in death, and the livid features of 
 [336]
 
 THE SUNRISE OF TOMORROW 
 
 the hideous dwarf, his thin lips drawn back 
 in a snarl. And d'Enville 
 
 " Your brother, Mademoiselle? " I asked, 
 my lips trembling. " Does he still live? " 
 
 " I know not, Monsieur. The time has not 
 been long." 
 
 " You have not left me? " 
 
 "No, Monsieur; I came when you fell. I 
 was so frightened, I thought only of your hurt 
 of my being here alone. Yet yet I think 
 Charles is dead, Monsieur he lies motion 
 less." 
 
 He rested with face buried on one arm, his 
 limbs drawn under him, the very posture ex 
 pressive of death, yet I crossed the narrow 
 space between, stepping over a ragged peas 
 ant, a loathsome fellow, and looked closely. 
 The single glance was enough; he had been 
 stricken from behind, a hideous gash cleav 
 ing the skull. I drew a sharp breath, lifting 
 my eyes to her face. 
 
 " He is dead, Monsieur? " 
 
 " Yes," soberly. " But as he would have 
 wished to die." 
 
 [337]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 She was staring at him, leaning forward, 
 her face white, her hands shading her eyes. 
 Then she crossed before me and knelt down, 
 making the symbol of the cross. I waited in 
 silence, sword still in my hand, uncertain of 
 the whereabouts of Francois, or if he had oth 
 ers to call to his assistance. It was so still 
 about us I could hear the thudding of my 
 heart, and the ghastly forms lying here and 
 there were grim reminders of the horror of a 
 moment before. I could scarcely believe the 
 testimony of my own eyes, that these men were 
 actually dead that d'Enville and I had met 
 them sword to sword, and conquered. The 
 light was sufficiently strong by now to yield 
 me glimpse of upturned faces; that was Guie- 
 teau just before the opening in the wall, his 
 huge figure extended at full length, his ugly 
 visage staring at the sky. De Saule lay curled 
 up, his face hidden, but Jules was on his side, 
 and seemed to grin with evil stare as I looked 
 at him. 
 
 A shudder ran over me, and my head 
 throbbed with a dull pain. Then I became 
 [338]
 
 THE SUNRISE OF TOMORROW 
 
 conscious that Mademoiselle had risen from 
 her knees. It was her voice which penetrated 
 the haze of my brain, and aroused me to 
 action. 
 
 "Monsieur what what are we to do 
 now? " 
 
 " In truth," I replied, ashamed of myself, 
 and seeking for words of encouragement, 
 " You are the soldier, I the girl, it would 
 seem. I was moping here with a brain par 
 alyzed. What shall we do, Mademoiselle? 
 Why we must find our way out, before that 
 fellow who got away unscathed can find more 
 villains to bar the passage." 
 
 " You think there are more? " 
 
 " That I do not know. Ay! there must be, 
 unless they have fled, for a larger number than 
 those who lie dead here were on guard in that 
 lower hall. You saw them." 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; there were others, four, 
 or five, perhaps." 
 
 "That was my memory; no doubt the 
 cowards slipped away unseen, afraid to follow. 
 Well such as they will not serve to halt us. 
 [339]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 You fired your pistol, Mademoiselle. I had 
 better load it again before we go." 
 
 While I was engaged at this task she moved 
 nearer the wall, as though seeking to avoid 
 the bodies. Suddenly she gave a little cry of 
 surprise. 
 
 "Monsieur who are they?" 
 
 She pointed to the southward, and, with a 
 step, I stood beside her sharply gazing across 
 the marsh toward the distant forest. A short 
 column of horsemen, two abreast, even at that 
 distance in fair sight, was riding along the 
 narrow causeway, headed toward the castle 
 gate. 
 
 That they were soldiers was evident to me 
 at a glance, yet the distance prevented my 
 eyes from distinguishing the uniform, and 
 there was no wind to spread their pennons 
 a scouting party no doubt, or a squad of for 
 agers. But belonging to which army! I 
 stared long. 
 
 "Ay! they are soldiers, and coming here, 
 but I cannot tell if they be enemies, or 
 friends," I said at last "This is neutral 
 [340]
 
 THE SUNRISE OF TOMORROW 
 
 ground, scouted over by detachments from 
 both camps." 
 
 " You cannot tell! you do not seel " her dark 
 eyes shone, as they met mine. " Why, Mon 
 sieur, I can distinguish the uniform of the 
 officer in front it it is like the one you 
 wear; they are of the Irish Brigade." 
 
 I leaned out over the wall, and looked 
 again, becoming dimly conscious that she was 
 right they were indeed Royal Irlandais, 
 and we were safe! The sudden reaction of 
 this discovery left me, for the instant helpless 
 and inert. My one thought was regret it 
 would mean our parting never to meet again. 
 The barrier of rank rose inevitably between 
 us, enforcing separation and a life apart. She, 
 the daughter of the Marquis d'Enville, would 
 go back to the court, leaving me to the old 
 life of camp and field. The dream was done; 
 the hope of love dead within me. I felt the 
 light touch of her hand on my sleeve, and 
 lifted my eyes to her face. 
 
 " What is it, Monsieur? You are not glad." 
 
 H For your dear sake, yes, Mademoiselle," I 
 [34i]
 
 SHEA, OF THE IRISH BRIGADE 
 
 answered gravely. " I rejoice at your safety. 
 But surely you must realize what this will 
 mean? You will return to Paris, and resume 
 your position. Louis will never dare avow 
 his connection with this diabolical plot of de 
 Saule's. He will smile and dissemble as a 
 monarch can. And I well all I shall retain 
 of you will be the memory that once I was of 
 
 service." 
 
 "And why, Monsieur?" her voice earnest 
 and sincere. " Shall I not still remain Ca- 
 mille d'Enville? " 
 
 " Of whose nature you have told me a 
 creature of moods; changeable as the strange 
 weave of silk given your name. Think you 
 I have so soon forgotten the warning of what 
 a difference the dawn of a morrow might 
 bring? " 
 
 There was an instant of silence; the words 
 she would speak hesitating on her lips. Her 
 cheeks were flushed, her eyes lowered. 
 
 " This is the morrow, Monsieur." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "I I have not changed ; perhaps pcr- 
 
 [342]
 
 THE SUNRISE OF TOMORROW? 
 
 haps, I did not tell you all the truth. It seems 
 different now, since I have met a man." 
 
 Increduously, scarcely understanding, I 
 could but grasp her extended hands. 
 
 " Look at me," I cried eagerly. " I would 
 see your eyes. You mean " 
 
 The long lashes lifted shyly, a sweet smile 
 in the depths of the eyes suddenly revealed. 
 
 " That I love you, Monsieur." 
 
 'T is the end of a soldier's story; just a 
 chapter or two torn from out the history of a 
 fighting race. The sunshine was on our faces, 
 the light of love in our hearts, and down below 
 my comrades rode steadily to the rescue. For 
 me the world was won. 
 
 THE END
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 m 
 
 JftN 1 
 
 6 1996 
 
 QUARTER LOAN 
 (HOOT H 1996
 
 A 000 927 477 o 
 
 PS 
 
 3531 
 
 P24s