D'Arblay and his two companions had been engaged, for ten days, in visiting the Huguenots within a circuit of four or five leagues round Toulouse, when they learned that their movements had been reported to the authorities there. They had one day halted as usual in a wood, when the soldier on the lookout ran in and reported that a body of horsemen, some forty or fifty strong, were approaching at a gallop by the road from the city.  
"They may not be after us," D'Arblay said, "but at any rate, they shall not catch us napping."
 
Girths were hastily tightened, armour buckled on, and all took their places in their saddles. It was too late to retreat, for the wood was a small one, and the country around open. As the horsemen approached the wood they slackened speed; and presently halted, facing it.
 
"Some spy has tracked us here," D'Arblay said; "but it is one thing to track the game, another to capture it. Let us see what these gentlemen of Toulouse are going to do. I have no doubt that they know our number accurately enough, and if they divide, as I hope they will, we shall be able to give them a lesson."
 
This was evidently the intention of the Catholics. After a short pause an officer trotted off with half the troop, making a circuit to come down behind the wood and cut off all retreat. As they moved off, the Huguenots could count that there were twenty-five men in each section.
 
"The odds are only great enough to be agreeable," D'Arblay laughed. "It is not as it was outside Paris, where they were ten to one against us. Counting our servants we muster twenty-two, while that party in front are only four stronger; for that gentleman with the long robe is probably an official of their parliament, or a city councillor, and need not be counted. We will wait a couple of minutes longer, until the other party is fairly out of sight; and then we will begin the dance."
 
A minute or two later he gave the word, and the little troop moved through the trees until nearly at the edge of the wood.
 
"Now, gentlemen, forward," D'Arblay said, "and God aid the right!"
 
As in a compact body, headed by the three gentlemen, they burst suddenly from the wood, there was a shout of dismay; and then loud orders from the officer of the troop, halted a hundred and fifty yards away. The men were sitting carelessly on their horses. They had confidently anticipated taking the Huguenots alive, and thought of nothing less than that the latter should take the offensive.
 
Scarcely had they got their horses into motion before the Huguenots were upon them. The conflict lasted but a minute. Half the Catholics were cut down; the rest, turning their horses, rode off at full speed. The Huguenots would have followed them, but D'Arblay shouted to them to halt.
 
"You have only done half your work yet," he said. "We have the other party to deal with."
 
Only one of his Huguenots had fallen, shot through the head by a pistol discharged by the officer; who had himself been, a moment later, run through by D'Arblay, at whom the shot had been aimed. Gathering his men together, the Huguenot leader rode back and, when halfway through the wood, they encountered the other party; whose officer had at once ridden to join the party he had left, when he heard the pistol shot that told him they were engaged with the Huguenots. Although not expecting an attack from an enemy they deemed overmatched by their comrades, the troop, encouraged by their officer, met the Huguenots stoutly.
 
The fight was, for a short time, obstinate. Broken up by the trees, it resolved itself into a series of single combats. The Huguenot men-at-arms, however, were all tried soldiers; while their opponents were, rather, accustomed to the slaughter of defenceless men and women than to a combat with men-at-arms. Coolness and discipline soon asserted themselves.
 
Francois and Philip both held their ground, abreast of their leader; and Philip, by cutting down the lieutenant, brought the combat to a close. His followers, on seeing their officer fall, at once lost heart; and those who could do so turned their horses, and rode off. They were hotly pursued, and six were overtaken and cut down. Eight had fallen in the conflict in the wood.
 
"That has been a pretty sharp lesson," D'Arblay said as, leaving the pursuit to his followers, he reined in his horse at the edge of the wood. "You both did right gallantly, young sirs. It is no slight advantage, in a melee of that kind, to be strong in officers. The fellows fought stoutly, for a short time.
 
"Had it not been for your despatching their officer, Monsieur Fletcher, we should not have finished with them so quickly. It was a right down blow, and heartily given, and fell just at the joint of the gorget."
 
"I am sorry that I killed him," Philip replied. "He seemed a brave gentleman, and was not very many years older than I am, myself."
 
"He drew it upon himself," D'Arblay said. "If he had not come out to take us, he would be alive now.
 
"Well, as soon as our fellows return we will move round to Merlincourt, on the other side of the town. There are several of our friends there, and it is the last place we have to visit. After this skirmish, we shall find the neighbourhood too hot for us. It is sure to make a great noise and, at the first gleam of the sun on helm or breast plate, some Catholic or other will hurry off to Toulouse with the news. In future we had best take some of the men-at-arms with us, when we pay our visits, or we may be caught like rats in a trap."
 
Making a circuit of twenty miles, they approached Merlincourt that evening and, establishing themselves as usual in a wood, remained quiet there next day. After nightfall D'Arblay rode off, taking with him Francois and five of his own men, and leaving Philip in command of the rest. The gold and jewels they had gathered had been divided into three portions, and the bags placed in the holsters of the saddles of the three lackeys; as these were less likely to be taken than their masters and, if one were captured, a portion only of the contributions would be lost. D'Arblay had arranged that he would not return that night, but would sleep at the chateau of the gentleman he was going to visit.
 
"I will get him to send around to our other friends, in the morning. The men will return when they see that all is clear. Send them back to meet us at the chateau, tomorrow night."
 
The five men returned an hour after they set out, and reported that all was quiet at Merlincourt; and that the Sieur D'Arblay had sent a message, to Philip, to move a few miles farther away before morning, and to return to the wood soon after nightfall.
 
Philip gave the men six hours to rest themselves and their horses. They then mounted and rode eight miles farther from Toulouse, halting before daybreak in a thick copse standing on high ground, commanding a view of a wide tract of country. Two of the troopers were sent off to buy provisions in a village, half a mile away. Two were placed on watch. Some of the others lay down for another sleep, while Pierre redressed the wounds that five of the men had received in the fight.
 
At twelve o'clock one of the lookouts reported that he could see, away out on the plain, a body of horsemen. Philip at once went to examine them for himself.
 
"There must be some two hundred of them, I should say, by the size of the clump," he remarked to the soldier.
 
"About that, I should say, sir."
 
"I expect they are hunting for us," Philip said. "They must have heard from some villager that we were seen to ride round this way, the day before yesterday, or they would hardly be hunting in this neighbourhood for us. It is well we moved in the night.
 
"I wish the Sieur D'Arblay and the Count de Laville were with us. No doubt they were hidden away, as soon as the troop was seen, but one is never secure against treachery."
 
Philip was restless and uncomfortable all day, and walked about the wood, impatiently longing for night to come. As soon as it was dark they mounted, and rode back to the wood near Merlincourt. The five men were at once sent off to the chateau where they had left their leaders.
 
"That is a pistol shot!" Pierre exclaimed, some twenty minutes after they left.
 
"I did not hear it. Are you sure, Pierre?"
 
"Quite sure, sir. At least, I will not swear that it was a pistol--it might have been an arquebus--but I will swear it was a shot."
 
"To your saddle, men," Philip said. "A pistol shot has been heard, and it may be that your comrades have fallen into an ambush. Advance to the edge of the wood, and be ready to dash out to support them, should they come."
 
But a quarter of an hour passed, and there was no sound to break the stillness of the evening.
 
"Shall I go into the village and find out what has taken place, Monsieur Fletcher? I will leave my iron cap and breast and back pieces here. I shall not want to fight but to run, and a hare could not run in these iron pots."
 
"Do, Pierre. We shall be ready to support you, if you are chased."
 
"If I am chased by half a dozen men, I may run here, sir; if by a strong force, I shall strike across the country. Trust me to double and throw them off the scent. If I am not back here in an hour, it will be that I am taken, or have had to trust to my heels; and you will find me, in the last case, tomorrow morning at the wood where we halted today. If I do not come soon after daybreak, you will know that I am either captured or killed. Do not delay for me longer, but act as seems best to you."
 
Pierre took off his armour and sped away in the darkness, going at a trot that would speedily take him to the village.
 
"Dismount and stand by your horses," Philip ordered. "We may want all their strength."
 
Half an hour later Pierre returned, panting.
 
"I have bad news, sir. I have prowled about the village, which is full of soldiers, and listened to their talk through open windows. The Sieur D'Arblay, Monsieur Francois, and the owner of the chateau and his wife were seized, and carried off to Toulouse this morning, soon after daybreak. By what I heard, one of the servants of the chateau was a spy, set by the council of Toulouse to watch the doings of its owner; and as soon as Monsieur D'Arblay arrived there last night, he stole out and sent a messenger to Toulouse. At daybreak the chateau was surrounded, and they were seized before they had time to offer resistance. The troop of horse we saw have all day been searching for us, and went back before nightfall to Merlincourt; thinking that we should be sure to be going there, sometime or other, to inquire after our captain. The five men you sent were taken completely by surprise, and all were killed, though not without a tough fight. A strong party are lying in ambush with arquebuses, making sure that the rest of the troop will follow the five they surprised."
 
"You were not noticed, Pierre, or pursued?"
 
"No, sir. There were so many men about in the village that one more stranger attracted no attention."
 
"Then we can remain here safely for half an hour," Philip said.
 
The conversation had taken place a few paces from the troop. Philip now joined his men.
 
"The Sieur D'Arblay and Count Francois have been taken prisoners. Your comrades fell into an ambush, and have, I fear, all lost their lives. Dismount for half an hour, men, while I think over what is best to be done. Keep close to your horses, so as to be in readiness to mount instantly, if necessary. One of you take my horse.
 
"Do you come with me, Pierre.
 
"This is a terrible business, lad," he went on, as they walked away from the others. "We know what will be the fate of my cousin and Monsieur D'Arblay. They will be burnt or hung, as heretics. The first thing is, how are we to get them out; and also, if possible, the gentleman and his wife who were taken with them?"
 
"We have but ten of the men-at-arms left, sir; and four of them are so wounded that they would not count for much, in a fight. There are the two other lackeys and myself, so we are but fourteen, in all. If we had arrived in time we might have done something but, now they are firmly lodged in the prison at Toulouse, I see not that we can accomplish anything."
 
Philip fell into silence for some minutes, then he said:
 
"Many of the councillors and members of parliament live, I think, in villas outside the walls. If we seize a dozen of them, appear before the city, and threaten to hang or shoot the whole of them, if the four captives are not released, we might succeed in getting our friends into our hands, Pierre."
 
"That is so, sir. There really seems a hope for us, in that way."
 
"Then we will lose no time. We will ride at once for Toulouse. When we get near the suburbs we will seize some countryman, and force him to point out to us the houses of the principal councillors and the members of their parliament. These we will pounce upon and carry off, and at daybreak will appear with them before the walls. We will make one of them signify, to their friends, that if any armed party sallies out through the gates, or approaches us from behind, it will be the signal for the instant death of all of our captives.
 
"Now let us be off, at once."
 
The party mounted without delay, and rode towards Toulouse. This rich and powerful city was surrounded by handsome villas and chateaux, the abode of wealthy citizens and persons of distinction. At the first house at which they stopped, Philip, with Pierre and two of the men-at-arms, dismounted and entered. It was the abode of a small farmer, who cultivated vegetables for the use of the townsfolk. He had retired to bed with his family, but upon being summoned came downstairs trembling, fearing that his late visitors were bandits.
 
"No harm will be done to you, if you obey our orders," Philip said; "but if not, we shall make short work of you. I suppose you know the houses of most of the principal persons who live outside the walls?"
 
"Assuredly I do, my lord. There is the President of the Parliament, and three or four of the principal councillors, and the Judge of the High Court, and many others, all living within a short mile of this spot."
 
"Well, I require you to guide us to their houses. There will be no occasion for you to show yourself, nor will anyone know that you have had aught to do with the matter. If you attempt to escape, or to give the alarm, you will without scruple be shot. If, on the other hand, we are satisfied with your work, you will have a couple of crowns for your trouble."
 
The man, seeing that he had no choice, put a good face on it.
 
"I am ready to do as your lordship commands," he said. "I have no reason for goodwill towards any of these personages, who rule us harshly, and regard us as if we were dirt under their feet. Shall we go first to the nearest of them?"
 
"No, we will first call on the President of the Parliament, and then the Judge of the High Court, then the councillors in the order of their rank. We will visit ten in all, and see that you choose the most important.
 
"Pierre, you will take charge of this man, and ride in front of us. Keep your pistol in your hand, and shoot him through the head, if he shows signs of trying to escape. You will remain with him when we enter the houses.
 
"Have you any rope, my man?"
 
"Yes, my lord, I have several long ropes, with which I bind the vegetables on my cart when I go to market."
 
"That will do. Bring them at once."
 
Pierre accompanied the man when he went to his shed. On his return with the ropes, Philip told the men-at-arms to cut them into lengths of eight feet, and to make a running noose at one end of each. When this was done, they again mounted and moved on.
 
"When we enter the houses," he said to the two other lackeys, "you will remain without with Pierre, and will take charge of the first four prisoners we bring out. Put the nooses round their necks, and draw them tight enough to let the men feel that they are there. Fasten the other ends to your saddles, and warn them, if they put up their hands to throw off the nooses, you will spur your horses into a gallop. That threat will keep them quiet enough."
 
In a quarter of an hour they arrived at the gate of a large and handsome villa. Philip ordered his men to dismount, and fasten up their horses.
 
"You will remain here, in charge of the horses," he said to the lackeys; and then, with the men-at-arms, he went up to the house.
 
Two of them were posted at the back entrance, two at the front, with orders to let no one issue out. Then with his dagger he opened the shutters of one of the windows and, followed by the other six men, entered. The door was soon found and, opening it, they found themselves in a hall where a hanging light was burning.
 
Several servants were asleep on the floor. These started up, with exclamations of alarm, at seeing seven men with drawn swords.
 
"Silence!" Philip said sternly, "or this will be your last moment.
 
"Roger and Jules, do you take each one of these lackeys by the collar. That is right. Now, put your pistols to their heads.
 
"Now, my men, lead us at once to your master's chamber.
 
"Eustace, light one of these torches on the wall at the lamp, and bring it along with you.
 
"Henri, do you also come with us.
 
"The rest of you stay here, and guard these lackeys. Make them sit down. If any of them move, run him through without hesitation."
 
At this moment an angry voice was heard shouting above.
 
"What is all this disturbance about! If I hear another sound, I will discharge you all in the morning."
 
Philip gave a loud and derisive laugh, which had the effect he had anticipated for, directly afterwards, a man in a loose dressing gown ran into the hall.
 
"What does this mean, you rascals?" he shouted angrily, as he entered.
 
Then he stopped, petrified with astonishment.
 
 If you move a step, you are a dead man.
"It means this," Philip said, levelling a pistol at him, "that if you move a step, you are a dead man."
 
"You must be mad," the president gasped. "Do you know who I am?"
 
"Perfectly, sir. You are president of the infamous parliament of Toulouse. I am a Huguenot officer, and you are my prisoner. You need not look so indignant; better men than you have been dragged from their homes, to prison and death, by your orders. Now it is your turn to be a prisoner.
 
"I might, if I chose, set fire to this chateau, and cut the throats of all in it; but we do not murder in the name of God. We leave that to you.
 
"Take this man away with you, Eustace. I give him into your charge. If he struggles, or offers the least resistance, stab him to the heart."
 
"You will at least give me time to dress, sir?" the president said.
 
"Not a moment," Philip replied. "The night is warm, and you will do very well, as you are.
 
"As for you," he went on, turning to the servants, "you will remain quiet until morning; and if any of you dare to leave the house, you will be slain without mercy. You can assure your mistress that she will not be long without the society of your master; for in all probability he will be returned, safe and sound, before midday tomorrow. One of you may fetch your master's cloak, since he seems to fear the night air."
 
The doors were opened and they issued out, Philip bidding the servants close and bar them behind them. When they reached the horses, the prisoner was handed over to D'Arblay's lackey, who placed the noose round his neck, and gave him warning as Philip had instructed him. Then they set off, Pierre with the guide again leading the way.
 
Before morning they had ten prisoners in their hands. In one or two cases the servants had attempted opposition, but they were speedily overpowered, and the captures were all effected without loss of life. The party then moved away about a mile, and the prisoners were allowed to sit down. Several of them were elderly men, and Philip picked these out, by the light of two torches they had brought from the last house, and ordered the ropes to be removed from their necks.
 
"I should regret, gentlemen," he said, ............