On the next floor it was lighter.  Faint outlines of doors and passages were visible.  I could not stand the gloom a moment longer; I strode into the nearest doorway and across the room to where a gleam of brightness outlined the window.  My shaking fingers found the hook of the shutter and flung it wide, letting in a burst of honest sunshine.  I leaned out into the free air, and saw below me the Rue Coupejarrets and the sign of the Amour de Dieu.

The next instant a cloth fell over my face and was twisted tight; strong arms pulled me back, and a deep voice commanded: 

“Close the shutter.”

Some one pushed past me and shut it with a clang.

“Devil take you!  You’ll rouse the quarter,” cried my captor, fiercely, yet not loud.  “Go join monsieur.”  With that he picked me up in his arms and walked across the room.

The capture had been so quick I had no time for outcry.  I fought my best with him, half strangled as I was by the cloth.  I might as well have struggled against the grip of the Maiden.  The man carried me the length of the house, it seemed; flung me down upon the floor, and banged a door on me.

IV

The three men in the window

I tore the cloth from my head and sprang up.  I was in pitch-darkness.  I dashed against the door to no avail.  Feeling the walls, I discovered myself to be in a small, empty closet.  With all my force I flung myself once more upon the door.  It stood firm.

“Dame! but I have got into a pickle,” I thought.

They were no ghosts, at all events.  Scared as I was, I rejoiced at that.  I could cope with men, but who can cope with the devil?  These might be villains—­doubtless were, skulking in this deserted house,—­yet with readiness and pluck I could escape them.

It was as hot as a furnace in my prison, and as still as the grave.  The men, who seemed by their footsteps to be several, had gone cautiously down the stairs after caging me.  Evidently I had given them a fine fright, clattering through the house as I had, and even now they were looking for my accomplices.

It seemed hours before the faintest sound broke the stillness.  If ever you want to squeeze away a man’s cheerfulness like water from a rag, shut him up alone in the dark and silence.  He will thank you to take him out into the daylight and hang him.  In token whereof, my heart welcomed like brothers the men returning.

They came into the room, and I thought they were three in number.  I heard the door shut, and then steps approached my closet.

“Have a care now, monsieur; he may be armed,” spoke the rough voice of a man without breeding.

“Doubtless he carries a culverin up his sleeve,” sneered the deep tones of my captor.

Some one else laughed, and rejoined, in a clear, quick voice: 

“Natheless, he may have a knife.  I will open the door, and do you look out for him, Gervais.”