When Desmond arrived that evening at the barracks, he found that the story of the rescue of Mademoiselle de Pointdexter was already known, and also that the Vicomte de Tulle had been the abductor, and had, in consequence, been banished from court.  The baron had indeed related the circumstances to some of his intimate friends, but the story had varied greatly as it spread, and it had come to be reported that an officer had brought a strong body of soldiers, who had assaulted the house where she was confined, and, after a desperate conflict, had annihilated the guard that had been placed over her.

Desmond laughed, as this story was told to him, when he entered the room where the officers were gathered.  The narrator concluded: 

“As you have been to Versailles, Kennedy, doubtless you will have heard all the latest particulars.  Have you learnt who was the officer, what regiment he belonged to, and how came he to have a body of soldiers with him, outside the town?  For they say that the house where she was confined was a mile and a half beyond the walls.”

There was no longer any reason for concealment.  The matter had become public.  The baron would certainly mention his name, and indeed his visit to the palace, and the private audience given to him and the baron, would assuredly have been noted.

“Your story is quite new to me,” he said, “and is swollen, in the telling, to undue proportions.  The real facts of the case are by no means so romantic.  The truth of the story, by this time, is generally known, as Mademoiselle Pointdexter and her father have many friends at court.  The affair happened to myself.”

“To you, Kennedy?” was exclaimed, in astonishment, by all those present.

“Exactly so,” he said.  “Nothing could have been more simple.  The evening before last I was, as usual, taking a walk and, the night being fine, I passed beyond the gate.  Presently, I heard a scream and a woman’s cry for help.  None of you, gentlemen, could have been insensible to such an appeal.  Callaghan and I climbed over a pretty high gate.  Not knowing what force there might be in the place, we occupied ourselves, at first, by unbarring and shooting the lock of the gate.  The bolts were stiff, and we made some noise over it, which brought out five men.  These we disposed of, after a short fight, in which I got this graze on the cheek, and Callaghan his sword wound in the shoulder.”

“How did you dispose of them, Kennedy?” the colonel asked.

“I ran two of them through.  Callaghan cut down one, and shot another.  The fifth man cried for mercy, and we simply tied him up.

“We then found Mademoiselle Pointdexter, and, learning from her that the carriage in which she had been brought there was, with its horses, still in the stable, we got it out, harnessed the horses, and put an old woman who was mademoiselle’s attendant in the carriage with her.  Mike took the reins, I mounted a saddle horse, and we drove her to her father’s house at Versailles, saw her fairly inside, and then, as you know, got back here just as the regiment was forming up on parade.”