“Not for your life!” cried the leader.  “If he die without wound, they cannot lay it to our charge.  Turn now to the other.”

The man bent over De Catinat, and placed his hand upon his heart.  As he did so the soldier heaved a long sigh, opened his eyes, and gazed about him with the face of one who knows neither where he is nor how he came there.  De Vivonne, who had drawn his hat down over his eyes, and muffled the lower part of his face in his mantle, took out his flask, and poured a little of the contents down the injured man’s throat.  In an instant a dash of colour had come back into the guardsman’s bloodless cheeks, and the light of memory into his eyes.  He struggled up on to his feet, and strove furiously to push away those who held him.  But his head still swam, and he could scarce hold himself erect.

“I must to Paris!” he gasped; “I must to Paris!  It is the king’s mission.  You stop me at your peril!”

“He has no hurt save a scratch,” said the ex-doctor.

“Then hold him fast.  And first carry the dying man to the carriage.”

The lantern threw but a small ring of yellow light, so that when it had been carried over to De Catinat, Amos Green was left lying in the shadow.  Now they brought the light back to where the young man lay.  But there was no sign of him.  He was gone.

For a moment the little group of ruffians stood staring, the light of their lantern streaming up upon their plumed hats, their fierce eyes, and savage faces.  Then a burst of oaths broke from them, and De Vivonne caught the false doctor by the throat, and hurling him down, would have choked him upon the spot, had the others not dragged them apart.

“You lying dog!” he cried.  “Is this your skill?  The man has fled, and we are ruined!”

“He has done it in his death-struggle,” gasped the other hoarsely, sitting up and rubbing his throat.  “I tell you that he was in extremis.  He cannot be far off.”

“That is true.  He cannot be far off,” cried De Vivonne.  “He has neither horse nor arms.  You, Despard and Raymond de Carnac, guard the other, that he play us no trick.  Do you, Latour, and you, Turberville, ride down the road, and wait by the south gate.  If he enter Paris at all, he must come in that way.  If you get him, tie him before you on your horse, and bring him to the rendezvous.  In any case, it matters little, for he is a stranger, this fellow, and only here by chance.  Now lead the other to the carriage, and we shall get away before an alarm is given.”

The two horsemen rode off in pursuit of the fugitive, and De Catinat, still struggling desperately to escape, was dragged down the St. Germain road and thrust into the carriage, which had waited at some distance while these incidents were being enacted.  Three of the horsemen rode ahead, the coachman was curtly ordered to follow them, and De Vivonne, having despatched one of the band with a note to his sister, followed after the coach with the remainder of his desperadoes.