“Yes, your Majesty,” answered Frances, growing short of breath from excitement, “he is waiting below for it.”

The king sat down at his desk, signed the treaty, affixed the Great Seal, returned the parchment to its envelope, and, turning to Frances, said:—­

“Now, the first kiss, my beauty!”

“Not now, your Majesty.  Please wait till I return,” she answered, taking the treaty from the king’s hand without his leave.  “I do not want to disarrange my vizard till after I have returned the parchment to the Abbe.  I fear the watermen will recognize me.”

“Who is in the boat with the Abbe?” asked the king.

“His servant, a French gentleman, and two watermen.  He insisted on bringing me, reluctant, doubtless to trust me with the parchments and the bill,” she answered, lying with the ease of a Lombard Street hosier.

But the king, growing suspicious because of her haste, caught her by the arm, saying:  “You remain here.  I’ll return the treaty.”

She drew her arm from the king’s grasp and started so hurriedly toward the door that the king took alarm and followed her, crying out:—­

“I tell you I’ll send the packet by other hands.  You remain here.”

She did not stop, so he caught her again by the arm, and spoke sharply:  “You are to remain with me.  Do you hear?  I’m not to be played with.  I’ll send the packet—­”

But she broke from his grasp, hastily opened the door, and found herself not at the head of the privy stairs, but in the king’s anteroom, surrounded by a half dozen men in armor one of whom attempted to seize her.  Instantly she sprang back to the king’s closet, screaming, not as a signal to us, for she had forgotten our agreement in that respect, but in genuine fright.

Her screams brought George, De Grammont, and myself to the door at the head of the stairs in less time than one could count ten.  We drew our swords, and I tried to open the door, but found it locked.

“The oars!  The heavy oars!” whispered De Grammont.

I ran down the stairs to the boat and was about to ask Bettina to hand me the oars, when she, anticipating me, whispered:—­

“I heard some one call for the oars, so I threw them out.  There they are!”

There they were, true enough, halfway up the water stairs, ready for my hand, because of Betty’s quickness.

In less than ten seconds I was at the top of the stairs again, and within twenty seconds more we had battered down the door with our heavy ash oars.  In the king’s closet we found Frances, surrounded by men at arms, and the king crouching in a corner, barricaded by small pieces of furniture.

George fired his pistol, and one of the six men fell, whereupon several pistol shots were fired, filling the small room with powder smoke, but injuring no one so far as we knew.  De Grammont found an opening in another man’s armor, and four stood between us and Frances.  Then the real fight began—­four against three.  This would have been heavy odds in an open field, but it was not so formidable in a small room almost dark with smoke.  Above all, the troopers were fighting for pay; we were fighting for life.